Sabina, SABRISA, Odysseus and I

You’ve all seen it… “his†and “hers†towels in the bathroom, “his†and “hers†dressing gowns and “his†and “hers†washing basins… And sometimes even “his†and “hers†coffee mugs in the kitchen…

Well, my future wife and I didn’t really have any of the typical “his and hers†stuff although…

While she wasn’t opposed to hunting per se, she was an animal lover who donated money to the “Save the Elephants Foundation in Kenya†every month and the only “animals†she would readily kill were the ticks she’d find on the dogs and horses (which – according to her served no purpose at all in life other than carrying disease and making pets sick). Other than that she couldn’t hurt a fly (or spider - which she is terrified of) and she tends to see all animals as pets and gives them names as opposed to seeing them as prey. And while I also love animals (medium to rare please with some fries on the side), the profession I have chosen as a career has a slightly different angle on conservation …

So when we moved onto our new ranch – Sabrisa – in Limpopo we reached a compromise: The section below the road where the house is on would be “hers†and the section up on the mountain where the Kudu are on would be mine (“hisâ€). This meant that all animals below the road would get names and become pets and I could do what I wanted on the “his†section. Well, all of this seemed perfectly reasonable and fine to me at first. After all, the mountain section is about 10 times the size of the section down by the house and is absolutely beautiful but…I was so happy with the fact that I would now have unlimited access to the Kudu, Mountain Reedbuck and Klipspringer in the mountains that I completely failed to consider the fact that the bottom section was the part with the river frontage and as you may know “river†+ riverine bush = BUSHBUCK…

The first time I saw him was when I drove down to the river to check on the water pump. Now since we moved onto the ranch I’ve seen several Bushbuck during my daily rounds – mostly females – some with young ones and the odd 12 – 13†ram not really ready for shooting but that fateful morning when I saw him changed life here on Sabrisa (and also the peace I should add). Because, THAT morning was the start of a duel between him and me that I had no intention of losing…

I got a brief glimpse of him as I rounded a bend in the road towards the river. He saw me before I saw him though and all I could catch sight of through the brush was his thick and looong set of horns as he scurried away into the thick stuff. He was breathtakingly beautiful with a dark coat, distinctive markings and a neck that was almost hairless – a sure sign of old age. And for the first time since hooking up with my lovely fiancé, the thought actually occurred to me to cheat on her. NO! Of course not cheating as in – with another woman! But cheating as in silently sneaking one of the Bushbuck on “her†section of the ranch without telling her… I considered taking the “odd-six†from behind the seat and getting out of the truck to just “have a peak†through the scope and confirm what I already knew at that time: That ram was at least 18 inches! But fortunately sanity prevailed and I drove on because I knew that, if I did in fact manage to get him into my scope… Well, let’s just say I really did want to get married to this girl…

Having said that, those were my thoughts until I saw him again… and again… and again… in the days that followed. Almost every morning on my way to the river and every evening when Sabina and I went for our daily walk he would be hanging around in the same area. And it was during one of these walks that I gently started pushing the issue with: “what if?†and: “did you know?†questions such as: “what would you do if I were to shoot an exceptionally large Bushbuck ram here on your part of the ranch?†and: “Did you know that when Bushbuck get really old they start losing the hair on their necks – like that one over there?†Or: “Boy, that ram is so old he can definitely not make babies anymore – maybe we should shoot him so that a younger ram can take his place…†But alas, she would not budge and the answer was clear and simple: “Darling, we have a deal! You may shoot as many Bushbuck as you want in the mountains but over here the animals have names and you don’t shoot anything with a name!†In spite of all my efforts trying to explain to her that Bushbuck don’t like the mountains – they like the river I got the same response so I decided to let the issue rest…

And for the first time in my life I actually considered poaching…

Well, I started placing the “odd-six†on the backseat of the pick-up as opposed to in the gun case behind the seat when I drove down to the river but I soon realized that it took way too long for me to get the rifle from there when I wanted to “glass†the ram through the scope. So later I started placing the rifle next to me on the passenger seat and before I knew it the rifle was resting on my lap –whenever I drove around on that part of the ranch… And it was during this time that I decided to give him a name… “Odysseus â€. (the guy who thought out the Trojan horse in the Greek mythology and who, through his unconventional and sneaky fighting tactics made quite a name for himself in the old times…)

You see, Odysseus was sneaky! And he was taunting me day in and day out – always showing up at inopportune times – when my rifle was not nearby or… when “she†was with me but NEVER when I was ready for him. And so it carried on day in and day out… until that fateful Sunday morning…

Because THAT Sunday, I decided that I was going to hunt Odysseus until I find him regardless of the consequences. And for this “special event†I decided to stash the “odd-six†and take my .375H&H Ruger from the safe… As I left the farmhouse behind me, the smallest twinge of guilt was in the back of my mind. We were having friends over for lunch and I had been asked to move the patio table under the trees… But, after all… I would be away for half an hour at the most and it was only 8am so surely that could wait…

I hadn’t walked far when I saw a female browsing to my right and was just in time to catch a glimpse of another Bushbuck with his back towards me further away under a tree as I got down on my knees. Was it him? I couldn’t say for sure but I decided to have a peak. So I got down on all fours and slowly started making my way towards where I’d seen the animal – wary of not spooking the female that was standing only about 25 yards from me. After about 10 minutes, the female started moving away from me and I eased myself up to see if the other animal was still there. At first I was disappointed because there was nothing where I’d seen the other bushbuck earlier.

But then he was there! Less than 20 yards from me – to my left under a thorn tree I caught the movement of his horns. His body was hidden behind the branches but the shape of the horns was unmistakable and there was no doubt that this was indeed Odysseus. So, with my heart throbbing in my throat I pointed the Leopold in the general direction of where he was standing and waited for him to come out.

Odysseus moved forward a bit and stopped – showing barely enough of his vital triangle for a clear shot so I waited for him to move forward a little more but then he looked straight at me and I knew that he was not going to give me much more time so I decided to take the shot – even though his body was still partially hidden behind the bush. After all, I had Mr. .375 in my hands and the little brush that was in front of him would not matter that… The time had come and this was the final showdown! The moment of truth had arrived between Odysseus and me… and I had the upper hand as the Leopold’s crosshairs settled just behind the shoulder…

Even though Odysseus went down like a ton of bricks at the Ruger’s bark I immediately recycled the action as I’m accustomed to doing and I stayed down. Something was wrong though – maybe it was the way he was kicking – maybe it was because I hadn’t heard the distinctive smack of the hit and I considered putting another round into him for good measure. But for some reason or another I opted not to and I stared in amazement at the beautiful animal on the ground already picturing where I would put the full-mounted trophy in the house – something I will regret for a long time to come…

Because the next moment, Odysseus got up and came running directly towards me, covering the distance between us at a frightening pace. I got up and picked him up in the scope but before I could squeeze of a shot he change direction and was now running away from me. My second shot at a running Odysseus was a clear miss and by the time that I had chambered the third round he had disappeared into the thick stuff. With my heart now hammering in my throat I walked up to where Odysseus had been standing and inspected the surrounding ground… NOTHING! Not a single speck of blood or sign that he had been wounded – other than his hoof marks when he dashed away! I followed his tracks into the bush he’d disappeared into where I found the smallest drop of blood imaginable and that was it.

Oh God I was in DEEP SH_T!!! Sabina would have definitely heard the shots and would have known that they came from her part of the ranch. It was 08:30 in the morning, I had a wounded bushbuck somewhere out there and our guests were arriving at noon. AND… I hadn’t even moved the patio table out… But right now the more important consideration was to find Odysseus…

I looked for more blood and found one more spot a couple of feet away from where I found the first but no more and I had to rely solely on his tracks to try and find him. during the follow-up I caught sight of him again once – but he barked and scurried away before I could take a shot. And in spite of looking for Odysseus for the next several hours I could find no trace of him… I concluded that I must have hit him too high and that he would be running for a long time still…

I will not go into detail now about my reception back home. Suffice to say that receptions at the South Pole are warmer than the one that I got. She had moved the heavy patio table on her own and a wonderful spread had been prepared for the guests. And whilst she was as charming as always to the guests, I caught her eye once or twice and knew that I still had a LOT of explaining to do…

I saw Odysseus again the following morning and he seemed to be fit as a fiddle. And I’ve seen him again a couple of times after that too. In fact, yesterday he was standing in 15 yards away from me staring at me with a knowledgeable look in his eyes. And I longingly looked at the empty passenger seat next to me…

Congratulations on surviving the consequences of your hunt.

May I tell a story of what happened to me one in an attempt to explain what may have happened to your bushbuck?

Long ago I shot at a walking springbuck at too long a range with a .270win. Result, a horrible dull "thump" of a gut shot. Buck ran off over the open plain, but was in my view always, and lay down maybe two miles further. I approached the spot with .270 held "at port". Got to about 15 yards from him, he hears me and lifts his head, and I shoot him in the upper neck. Head flops down and he lies still, no kicking even. End of story? I though so.

I put down my rifle against a bush and take out knife for the smelly gutting job. When I get two yards from the ram, he starts getting up! My rifle is now about 10 yards behind me, but I played rugby in my young days, so I dived and grabbed him. A short struggle and his throat is cut! Now it is really the end of him!

Now why could he get up after being shot in the neck at 15 yards? Did I pull the shot to one side? On inspection the point of bullet impact could be clearly seen, centered on the side of the neck, just where I wanted it. The exit hole? None! The bullet entrance hole? No hole at all! Then how do I know where the bullet hit? There was a 50 cent sized bruised and hairless spot with "shaved" paths radiating from the center! A few very small drops of blood oozed from the bruised, but definitely not a .270 sized hole in the skin. Clearly the bullet had totally disintegrated on impact and had totally failed to penetrate even into the shin on the neck of a springbuck. The “shaved†streaks could only have formed by jacket fragments cutting the hair.

Now please do not ask me to explain how a well placed neck shot with a 150 grain .270 PMP bullet can possibly fail to penetrate a springbuck’s neck. I can only relate this story and say: Maybe something similar happened with your very close range shot? We’ll never know! But at least we can speculate!

I’m, sure if you wait long enough one day Odecius will wander off to the hills to go and die in peace. Maybe just on a day when your fiancé, or by then wife, went to town? I suggest that you go look for him in the hills [which you can reach via the river?] whenever she is away from the farm.

In good hunting.

Andrew McLaren

Thanks Todd - she sure is a keeper.

Andrew - your theory makes sense. And yes, just maybe one day I will be able to report on the bushbuck I successfully hunted on my way to the hills via the river and solve the mystery of how Odysseus defeated death...

At the risk of exposing my deviant side, maybe I can offer a suggestion. You found blood, right? The bushbuck is wounded, right? Wounded bushbuck are known to be dangerous, right? You love this woman more than anything, right? She frequently walks in the area this deangerous animal inhabits, right? You wouldn't want anything to happen to her, right?

Hunt him down and finish him off, then explain to her that chivalry is NOT dead and you were doing this unpleasant deed ONLY out of your love for her. Then run like hell!!!

quote:

Originally posted by P. Jilek:
At the risk of exposing my deviant side, maybe I can offer a suggestion. You found blood, right? The bushbuck is wounded, right? Wounded bushbuck are known to be dangerous, right? You love this woman more than anything, right? She frequently walks in the area this deangerous animal inhabits, right? You wouldn't want anything to happen to her, right?

Hunt him down and finish him off, then explain to her that chivalry is NOT dead and you were doing this unpleasant deed ONLY out of your love for her. Then run like hell!!!

I agree 100%!!!

Man, you are in deep doo-doo!

P.J. has the explanation Chris. Go with the "most dangerous of all African bush animals" pitch. As you know, Bushbuck have been known to charge and harm many a Man and dog. You were trying discreetly to protect her as you had seen the buck make false charges at your cruiser on several ocassions. It must be hunted down and harvested from the other friendly and cuddly animals. That's why you have emailed me to come over and track him down You would have to tie me up if I were there now. An 18 inch Bushbuck is too much for me to avoid By next May he might grow another inch! Good hunting and better luck, David

Great story Chris! How about a not-dead-yet picture of that big guy!

Regards, Bill

Here's a picture of Odysseus taken with my trail camera. (if I were holding the camera and had my rifle nearby, the picture ould have been featuring both of us... ha-ha) I've cropped it a bit but I think it's pretty evident that he is a MONSTER. The saga continues...

Now that's a Bushbuck! Keep us posted Chris!
Good hunting, David

just wait until her birthday comes, then go out and buy yourself a new rifle, claiming to give it to her for a present. then while sighting it in for her, if that bushbuck just happens to be in the line of fire, well just explain it that you were getting the rifle ready for her because you love her so much. with that you will be forgiven, have a new rifle and the bushbuck

A well-told tale and one hell of a Bushbuck. Can't say what I'd do in the same circumstances, but I suspect the Bushbuck would eventually be toast.

PART II

SABINA, SABRISA, 2 DAMN LEADWOOD POLES, A BUSHBUCK (not Odysseus) AND I.


So “we†(read “Sabinaâ€) decided that the veranda needed a roof and after getting an absolutely ridiculous and overpriced quotation from a construction company I made the mistake of remarking that erecting this roof was so easy that I might as well do it myself…

Boy was that stupid!!! Because before I knew it we were busy planning the construction of the roof by “Chris Troskie Construction Inc.†Well, at first it sounded pretty easy: A couple of gum poles, some corrugated iron sheeting, nails etc… But that was until a friend was kind enough to donate some leadwood poles to use for the vertical beams and suddenly a relatively simple project became a whole lot more complicated…

Because unlike gum poles, leadwood trees are not straight and the task of planting “non-straight†poles so that their tops (which are supposed to support the new roof) are in a straight line is not an easy one. So when I selected the trees that I would use for my project I chose the “straightest†ones of the lot and after digging four holes and lining the trees up to the best of my ability I mixed the concrete and firmly cemented the four poles into Mother Earth – never to be removed again or so I thought… until “she†had a look at the poles day before yesterday and casually remarked: “Darling, why did you use these two ugly poles and not the two pretty ones over there? Please take those two in the middle out and put the nice thick pretty ones in their place…â€


The pole on the ground is what I am supposed to replace the poles I had already planted with... DAMN HEAVY!

You see, it is said that leadwood trees grow for a thousand years, then live for a thousand years and then take another thousand years to die. Now who the heck was counting all those years I do not know but what I do know is that those poles are so firmly concreted into the Earth that it may well take me a thousand years to take them out… And now you will ask what the heck does this have to do with hunting…

Well, there’s something about walking in the bush with a rifle in your hand… Anti-hunters will tell you that carrying a gun is a way of making up for an inadequate manhood but we hunters know that it is about more than that and that there could be several reasons why we find it enjoyable. On that afternoon though, after her “innocent†request to replace the poles that I had planted with so much care, precision and effort I had only one reason for taking my rifle with when I walked away from the house… I needed to KILL something! And seeing that according to current legislation in South Africa it is illegal to kill your wife (I’m not sure what the law states about fiancés – I’d better check it out though), I decided to go out and find Odysseus…

I slowly walked up the path leading to Odysseus’ territory, screening the surrounding bush for any sign of him but then the wind changed and I decided to circle around the area that he favors so that I could approach it from the river’s side. In the process I spooked two warthogs and, disappointingly, they burst through the bush – in the direction of where I hoped Odysseus was. And as I turned around to continue with my walk towards the river I saw a bushbuck male under a tree about 90 yards away. It was not Odysseus – I knew that immediately because the ram that was staring at me was still a young one. But even though he was not big – trophy-wise he was beautiful and before I knew it the Ruger was shouldered and I had him in my sights. He was facing me head-on – not an easy shot at this distance without a rest and with the memory of my botched shot at Odysseus still fresh in my mind I stood there staring at the ram through my scope. “Should I or shouldn’t I?†I asked myself. This was NOT Odysseus, the ram was NOT particularly big and for all practical purposes and intent I had NO reason to shoot him. But… we were running out of game meat in the freezer, we have clients arriving at month-end and they all love Sabina’s roasted leg of Bushbuck… AND… I really was upset about having to dig out those damn leadwood poles…

The thought of the poles made my mind up for me and when the crosshairs came to a standstill on his chest just below his neck, I gently squeezed the trigger. Similar to Odysseus, the ram went down immediately as 300gr of Trophy bonded bearclaw found its mark. This time there was no doubt that it was a good hit but just to be sure I recycled the action and kept him in my scope until he lay still.

It was by no means a big ram and I have to admit that I felt slightly guilty about taking him as another year or two would have seen him grow an inch or two. But I enjoyed hunting him, it was a good clean kill, we would have meat in the freezer again and my faith in my Ruger and my own shooting abilities had been restored. Getting back home that afternoon with a dead bushbuck poached from “her†side of the ranch was of course another story and one best left to be told on another day…


The ram I shot

Beauty of a ram Chris! Looks like his cape isn't rubbed? Sorry your stuck with the job of changing out the posts. You may need a back hoe. Great picture by the way. GH, David

Chris: You've got us hooked. Keep on with the story. It may eventually contain marriage, violence, murder, divorce, and more intrigue, who knows? As to you prior excuse: remember, shooting a wounded bushbuck that you should not have wounded in the first place may not be a sufficient excuse for finishing off a wounded animal that you shouldn't have shot in the first place!

PART III – The Conclusion

OK, so there I was with (this time) a dead bushbuck and my elation and pride in my own shooting abilities slowly made place for the reality of having to return back home and face “herâ€. See, Sabina is not anti-hunting: She is just “anti-killing†and believes that nothing should be killed without a reason. Hunting and killing for food, conservation and for purpose of having a mounted trophy is OK but she dislikes the concept of killing just for fun. Well, I hadn’t tested her feelings on killing for revenge (which to a lesser degree this was) so it was quite clear that I couldn’t get back home and tell her I killed one of “her†bushbuck because I had to take out freaking leadwood poles. Look, I knew I would be in trouble for having hunted on her part of the ranch and there was nothing I could do about that. But the question now was for what reason did this pretty (and rather young) bushbuck die?

Well I waited and waited… but the horns of the dead bushbuck at my feet would not grow longer than any of the ones that I had shot before. Clearly I would not be able to convince her that I shot the bushbuck for its trophy-sized horns so that excuse was out.

And whilst there are LOTS of bushbuck on the property I didn’t think I would really be able to get away with the excuse that my killing of the bushbuck was part of a culling exercise in order to support the conservation of the species…

Having killed the bushbuck for its meat might have cut it. Only… there were clients arriving at month-end and they would surely kill enough animals to supply us with game meat for quite a long time. Anyway, most clients enjoy venison but they REALLY like to eat the venison of the animals that they had hunted themselves…

And then I thought back to the advice that fellow AR members were so kind to offer – especially the bit about bushbuck being dangerous and all that… And that they have been known to charge hunters, dogs, vehicles etc… So I summed up the situation:

1. The bushbuck was facing me head-on when I shot it so in theory it “could†have been charging me… (might be difficult to explain how you shoot something from the side through the rib cage if it were busy charging you)
2. OK, the shot was taken from about 90 yards – not 10 or 20 as in a real charge but after all – she was no ballistics expert and wouldn’t be able to determine the actual shooting distance…
3. And the thought occurred to me that I might be able to pull this one off…

So I made the traditional “boeksak†(carry case) of the animal by cutting through the sinewy part of the front legs and pushing the back legs through the holes and I swung the dead bushbuck over my shoulder for the walk home…

She was standing on the veranda watching me – right there by the DAMN leadwood poles as I approached the house and I have to admit that I was feeling rather sheepish as I walked past her to the skinning facilities with the bushbuck over my shoulder (kind of reminded me of being summoned to the headmaster’s office when I was still in school) and I ended up spending more time at the skinning shed than what was necessary. Then, just as I finally gathered the courage to go and face her, she miraculously appeared in the doorway. She had a knowing smile on her pretty face and in her pretty hands she was holding… wait for this… two Gin & Tonics!!!

“Oh darling!†she exclaimed; “look at the horns on that animal!†that could really hurt you if he were to charge you couldn’t it…?†and then: “I’m sure you shot this one so that Odysseus would have enough food to eat and that this younger one wouldn’t take over his territory didn’t you?†AND THEN: “This is SO great – we were running out of meat in the freezer so at least now we have some again!â€

Boy was I flabbergasted? Who was this lady and what had she done with Sabina?! It also really threw me when she said: “Please remember to bring me the liver and I’ll cook it for us tonight – with onions and bacon – just the way you like it…â€

Well, we had Bushbuck liver that evening for dinner. And the following nights we had… Bushbuck in garlic, Bushbuck in sherry cream, Bushbuck in the oven, Bushbuck on the braai… and guess what we had tonight? … BUSHBUCK stroganoff! And while I was sitting there… trying my best to pretend that I was enjoying bushbuck meat for the 5th night in a row… Sabina lifted her glass and casually said: “Cheers to your Bushbuck – it really is a pity we don’t have Eland over here, isn’t it? …â€

THE END

Keep up the good work Chris. More stories to be forthcoming from you on your escapades on the farm and with Sabina and all of the animals. There's got to be one about a warthog waiting to be told. Love that bushbuck liver and onions. Had that three weeks ago in the Limpopo with the last bushbuck that I killed.

LMAO! That was hilarious Chris! I get the feeling Sabina's been reading your posts on AR. My wife's going to get a BIG kick outta this one. This story is similar to something I would try to get away with. Good hunting my friend, David

Chris,

I think I know how you feel! I was still courting my dearest Ulcer when she (a devout bunnyhugger at the time) joined me on a trip to the bush.....

Background: The farm on which we were, belongs to very dear old friends of mine, and borders on a river, which borders, on the opposite bank, about 6 gazillion workless, penniless and hungry souls. At the time, there was a dispute as the township folk had not honoured grazing rights they were granted. They were cutting game fences, herding their goats and cattle through to graze. And they were poaching heavily. I've shot several poachers' dogs there.

So dear Ulcer and I are cruising around the farm, dropping the hunters off, and generally just enjoying the beauty of the place. I drove past steaming cattle dung and a lot of spoor, and just carried on - I wasn't about to upset the love of my life by shooting an Nguni now, was I? Not much further on, I come across the group of fat cattle, grazing in the bush some metres off the road. I called out for the herder, and it was obvious that the cattle were unattended. Or the herdboy had hightailed it.

So I got out of the vehicle, got my .375 off the rack, and walked downwind of the herd. I spied a well-fed bull who clearly believed that he owned the place, but he was in clear view of Ailsa. I went further into the bush, passing by pregnant cows and lactating cows. Life seemed good in the slums across the river. And then I came upon a HUGE old cow, checked and decided that she was quite out of sight of the vehicle, and tapped her lightly behind the ear with a 300gr soft. Needless to say, she dropped like a ton of bricks - dust cloud 'n all.

I got back to the vehicle to find Ailsa quite ashen, with bulging eyeballs. I apologised profusely, explaining why it was necessary to shoot the cow. "No, that's not the problem..." I said that I did go to a lot of trouble to ensure that she didn't witness the killing, and this is when she raised a shaky hand, and pointed into the bush, her lip just beginning to tremble a little. I looked over her shoulder and there, in the open, lay dear old Daisy, tongue hanging out and legs kicking feebly. "Oh my GAWD". Ailsa and Daisy were staring into one another's eyes when my trigger broke!

After picking the other guys up, we arrived back at camp, and I waited quite awhile for one of the hunters to dismount and open the gate, which one did (after Ailsa commented that they were probably waiting for HER to get the gate) As we drove through, ailsa muttered something un-complimentary about the gate-opener, and I asked "Babe, are you being a cow?" Big-eyed, she blurted out "Me? Hell, no - I saw what you do to cows!!!!"

Outstanding read Chirs.

You had better print these off so you can put them in a book as time goes on.

Thanks for sharing.

Will

quote:

And whilst she was as charming as always to the guests, I caught her eye once or twice and knew that I still had a LOT of explaining to do…

quote:

“Darling, why did you use these two ugly poles and not the two pretty ones over there? Please take those two in the middle out and put the nice thick pretty ones in their place…â€

quote:

“Oh darling!†she exclaimed; “look at the horns on that animal!†that could really hurt you if he were to charge you couldn’t it…?†and then: “I’m sure you shot this one so that Odysseus would have enough food to eat and that this younger one wouldn’t take over his territory didn’t you?†AND THEN: “This is SO great – we were running out of meat in the freezer so at least now we have some again!â€

quote:

Well, we had Bushbuck liver that evening for dinner. And the following nights we had… Bushbuck in garlic, Bushbuck in sherry cream, Bushbuck in the oven, Bushbuck on the braai… and guess what we had tonight? … BUSHBUCK stroganoff! And while I was sitting there… trying my best to pretend that I was enjoying bushbuck meat for the 5th night in a row… Sabina lifted her glass and casually said: “Cheers to your Bushbuck – it really is a pity we don’t have Eland over here, isn’t it? …â€

Sorry, but these quotes say it all!
And don't come crying to AR and say you were not warned in time to come, friend

This woman is a typical Delilah!
She has got you by the short and curly and you are going to pay in many ways for the rest of your life!

quote:

Originally posted by Gecko:

Sorry, but these quotes say it all!
And don't come crying to AR and say you were not warned in time to come, friend

This woman is a typical Delilah!
She has got you by the short and curly and you are going to pay in many ways for the rest of your life!

I personally think that THIS quote says more:

quote:

Originally posted by ChrisTroskie:

Thanks Todd - she sure is a keeper.:

In spite of what may have been perceived from previous posts made by me, this lady is the best thing that has ever happened to me. She has humor, wit and intelligence - something that I treasure.

And if you don't believe me why don't you give me a call and come visit with us here on Sabrisa - just bring your own booze...

Thanks, but no thanks.
Simply because I think you should finish your Bushbuck on your own - don't pass the buck now!