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Chipmunks are just fast rats when they get into a house.
I may or may not post my dead animals now.
He ain't heavy, he's my brother.
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(06-27-2011, 12:47 AM)Maggot Wrote: I may or may not post my dead animals now.
I'm okay if you don't post them but if you do, please do it between meals. I need at least 20-30 minutes after viewing dead animals to really enjoy a burger or steak.
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I LOVE hunting!
But only for food. I don't think I would enjoy any sort of trophy hunt, no matter what. But everytime I walk thru the African bush, all I see is wonderfully roasted, glazed and basted pieces of Antilope, Gazelle's, Warthog's and everything else that roams around.
My best experience was with Bashir, a tiny old Indian who has been hunting in Kenya since it's glory days when Hemmingway and half of Hollywood came for their yearly Safari's during the 50's and 60's, and who took us on the hunt, which nowadays is much more controlled of course, but hasn't lost any of its magic.
Bashir is not only ancient but also about 60kg and misses half his butt, due to a knife fight with a grown male Lion (The only guy I know off who came out as a winner really) as well as having lost half the functions of his left arm, due to being thrown up in the air by a Buffallo after a short Tete a Tete with it, and to describe it in his own words "Thank God I landed right next to my rifle, so I picked it up and 'Boom!' ... hi hi hi"
Always wanted to make a movie about him.
Anyway, one of my best times was when we went for Gazelle's and Zebra. Zebra is absolutely delicious. At the wheel of the trusty Land Rover is good ole Bashir, me at his side holding all our rifles, behind us his two Kenyan trackers standing in the car.
What you do is drive slowly thru the bush. No roads but straight African bush. Anybody who's been there knows it is truly breathtaking. So you lazily cruise across this stunning landscape until you come across a herd of Zebra's. Car stops, you pick your target, which suddenly makes you understand how difficult it must be for Lions as the whole bunch looks like a massive field of stripes and you have no idea where one starts and the other ends, and you go .... Boom!
And in the matter of a second .... everything changes. Dramatically!
Now, if you are lucky you took down your target with your shot, but Zebra's are big, hang out in groups, and those stripes are terribly confusing, so most of the time that just doesn't happen, but what happened is something like this.
Instantly, and I mean INSTANTLY, the whole herd takes off into your opposite direction. Instantly, and once again, INSTANTLY, this little, tiny, fragile, half eaten and ancient Indian behind his wheel turns into some sort of manic Michael Schumacher of the bush, hits the pedal, you are thrown back into your seat, which throws your head back so you can see those big fat grins on the faces of the trackers above you, and anybody who has seen African's smile knows how big and fat only they can do it, as these boys have obviously been in this situation before. If you have watched that old classic movie "Safari" with John Wayne where they are catching that Giraffe, it is JUST ... LIKE ... THAT!
And all of a sudden you understand a few things.
No matter what is in front of you, tree, bush, anything really, that Land Rover just takes anything down at 60km/ph turning your ride into one of the most exciting roller coaster events ever. You understand why people love that car so much.
You look next to you and see that mad grin and fire in the eyes of that ancient Indian hunter driving thru something you would have never imagined doing yourself at such speed. You understand why he kicked that Lions ass.
You hang on for dear life thru this ride, bobbing up and down like mad, wondering if you will smash thru the window or hug the next tree with your balls, all the while desperately trying to look somewhat cool in the process, and suddenly you understand how fucking great life can be!
Anyway, so after some time the herd stops, and it was here that I had one of those "Huh?! You got to be fucking kidding me!" moments.
As a normal guy you look at this herd of about 50plus animals and simply just try to focus, where those two trackers in the back point their fingers at exactly the animal you had shot even before car stops. Even after that it took me a good five minutes to find out which one they where pointing at.
So finally your prey is down and you are all happy, feeling the blood of the ancient hunters running thru your veins and can barely stop from ripping the animal open with your bare hands to take out its still warm and pulsating liver to take a vicious bite out of it with blood dripping down your chin. You've seen it done before in all those movies. Well, little did I know.
Anybody who has ever tried to load a dead horse into a Land Rover or pretty much any other car really, knows what I'm talking about. Not only that, but it is a fresh dead horse with it's belly cavity opened up and a tremendous amount of blood collected in exactly that.
Due to my size I thought it would be a fair deal to have the two trackers pick up the front to legs, while I would take the back two. Clearly Bashir couldn't be part of it, not only because of his age, handicaps and small size, but also because he was still deeply in his mad driving frenzy and would have taken bites out of the dead animal instead of loading it.
So up we go at the same time .... and so did my eyes!
Because the front, obviously, went up faster than me, resulting in something like a Tsunami of blood and bits of intestines washing all over me. Well, I did want to have some blood dripping from my chin didn't I?! Always be careful what you're wishing for!!
Not only that, but those animals are full of little animals, which in my case where all standing upright now and clapping in unison about my mishap going "If Rob can't do it ... no one can!"
Finally we managed to store that horrid horse into the car and I was standing there with a slight sun burn and looking like I just jumped out of the mincer of a sausage factory.
We also gut stuck on something that's called "Black Cotton" in East Africa, which is kind of the same like trying to drive your car thru Play Do and took us 2 hours to dig us thru 20 meters, but by that stage you really don't give a fuck anymore. About anything!
But damn, one of the best days of my life!
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I knew coming into this thread wouldn't be terribly smart of me but I did it anyway because I do shit I probably shouldn't do all. the. fucking. time.
Goddamnit, Mo. You're eating a horse, I don't care that it's called a zebra, it's a horse with stripes. Fuck.
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I don't think I would enjoy hunting in a bug infested swamp. I bet before north America was colonized they got bigger than 25 ft long. I think they grow until they die, and they can live a long time.
He ain't heavy, he's my brother.
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(06-27-2011, 08:20 AM)Maggot Wrote: I don't think I would enjoy hunting in a bug infested swamp. I bet before north America was colonized they got bigger than 25 ft long. I think they grow until they die, and they can live a long time.
i often think about the Spaniards who hacked their way through that miserable hot swampy hellhole florida in their nice steel armor...100 degrees, poisonous snakes, 'gators, disney world, swarms of skeeters...must have been fun.
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.............sure!
He ain't heavy, he's my brother.
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Zebra is one of the best game meats. Then again, there are still butcheries in Switzerland devoted purely for Horse meat. It got a sweet touch and is simply perfect for "Sauerbraten" due to that.
In Kenya I was in charge of one of the bigger hotels there and one of our main tourist attractions was our "Nyama Choma" restaurant, meaning all the meat is being grilled, sort of like the South American Churrasco style, on metal skewers or swords, and the boys come to your plate and slice it down on it. The Carnivore is the other famous restaurant for that in Nairobi.
Anyway, during the season we had like a dozen different game meats on the menu, ranging from Warthog, Tompson Gazelle, Giraffe, Wilderbeast, Eland, Ostrich, all the way to Crocodile and yes ... Zebra.
Things you can not eat, Lion and Hipopotamus! Anything else goes but those two are truly disgusting!
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Used to be, grouse shoots, wood pigeons, hare coursing, but one day I was out hunting with my crossbow and I shot a hare in the arse by mistake, it screams sounded a like small child in agony, I finished it off with my bare hands and swore I would never go hunting again.
We need to punish the French, ignore the Germans and forgive the Russians - Condoleezza Rice.
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i was very glad when the fox hunt was banned.
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(06-27-2011, 05:11 PM)Lady Cop Wrote: i was very glad when the fox hunt was banned.
So was I, fox hunting is like bear baiting and bullfights, a symbol of a bygone age. In Barcelona they are currently in the middle of the last ever bullfighting season, mainly because hardly anyone watches it anymore.
We need to punish the French, ignore the Germans and forgive the Russians - Condoleezza Rice.
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Curious Puddly...when the traditional "Fox Hunt" happened...was it something to where the hunters and the hounds went out and actually hunted the wild fox? Or was it a type of "caged hunt" to where the fox was already captured, and released before the "hunt" began.
Edit: Also..I just love it when the bull takes a piece of the Matador prior to meeting his predetermined end.
Of the millions of sperm injected into your mother's pussy, you were the quickest?
You are no longer in the womb, friend. The competition is tougher out here.
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(06-27-2011, 06:03 PM)thekid65 Wrote: I just love it when the bull takes a piece of the Matador prior to meeting his predetermined end.
Me too! I don't understand how something as barbaric as that would be considered entertainment. I think the people who support it are as fucked up as the people who participate in it.
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(06-27-2011, 06:03 PM)thekid65 Wrote: Curious Puddly...when the traditional "Fox Hunt" happened...was it something to where the hunters and the hounds went out and actually hunted the wild fox? Or was it a type of "caged hunt" to where the fox was already captured, and released before the "hunt" began.
Edit: Also..I just love it when the bull takes a piece of the Matador prior to meeting his predetermined end.
Traditionally the fox would always be a genuine wild fox, farmers and landowners (the ones that approved of fox hunting anyway) would inform the leaders of the hunt where they had recently seen foxes on the hunt to increase there chances of getting one to hunt down.
Now they have drag hunts where a fox scent is sprayed onto a big cloth and dragged through the countryside on the back of horse, the hunt then goes out to try and pinpoint the scent and hunt it down.
Many hunts packed up completely proving conclusively that all they were really interested in was seeing a fox being torn to shreds by foxhounds.
We need to punish the French, ignore the Germans and forgive the Russians - Condoleezza Rice.
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Ahhh, I didnt realize the hounds did the killing, thought that was done by a human with a gun, and that the hounds just found/cornered the fox.
Yeah, that doesnt sound like a whole lot of fun to me.
Of the millions of sperm injected into your mother's pussy, you were the quickest?
You are no longer in the womb, friend. The competition is tougher out here.
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I hunt, I kill and I eat. I hunt the animal wins and survives I eat but it costs more, I hunt I spend alot of time trying not to be seen by other hunters there are a bunch of crazy assholes out in the woods during hunting season.
Our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other.
John Adams
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(06-28-2011, 02:59 PM)thekid65 Wrote: Ahhh, I didnt realize the hounds did the killing, thought that was done by a human with a gun, and that the hounds just found/cornered the fox.
Yeah, that doesnt sound like a whole lot of fun to me.
No the fox is hunted to the point of exhaustion when it is cornered by the hunt, it is then picked up by the leader of the hunt by the tail and thrown to the foxhounds where it is torn literally to shreds.
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the fox hunt was a traditional elitist "sport". and the subject of some beautiful equestrian art that personified England to many. i admit to liking the horsey paintings. but hated the poor fox being ripped to pieces.
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