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Thread: DANGEROUS GAME...Bill Axbey.

  1. #1
    Join Date
    Dec 2011
    Whakatete Bay... Coromandel

    DANGEROUS GAME...Bill Axbey.

    The other day I called to see the great White Hunter. If I said I called Without the slightest thought of getting a story, it would be a lie......
    I was keen to pursue the line and get from him the story of what he considered the most dangerous situations he had been in ( you will remember the only the only unprovoked wild animal to draw his blood had beeen the dik dik)He sucked away on his pipe for awhile and said. Well you are not going to like it, I can assure you. I still cringe at the memory, but you asked for it, so here goes.

    It happened about five years after he first went to Africa. he had been visiting a friend who ran a cattle ranch and after breakfast next day the friend had said " You're just the one to do a job for me. I need a couple of beasts shot for the larder and the pickle, so get that bundouki out of the jeep and show us how a modern professional does it".
    They walked over to the jeep and took a 7mm of the rack picked up a couple of cartridges out of the glove box and wandered over to the cattle yards where two half-breed Brahmins were eying up the growing crowd with obvious dislike.
    His friend reminded him that the animals had to be "halaled" "Otherwise half the boys wont be able to eat it; so long as they are still kicking it will be OK"
    The Great White Hunter climbed the fence and, after making sure the background was clear, waited his chance. He waited until one relaxed, and shot him in the neck. Down he went kicking. Then there was pandomonium - over the fence and through the gate came three meat hungry Mohammedans, all eager to carry out the halal ceremony. Just as my friend drew bead on the second bull, this one charged the leader of the ceremony-makers dropping its head exactly as as my friend squeezed the trigger.
    Instead of a killing shot, he got a clip through the thick muscle on the top of the bulls neck. No doubt it was extremely painful and the bull let out a bellow and rushed the gate, which had been left unlatched by the halal fans. He tore half the gate off its hinges, then took to the crowd outside, who wisely flew over the rails into the stockyards. Having cleared the deck, as it were, his lordship took of across the paddock, bellowing, bleeding and charging everything in sight
    The hundred milk cows hadnt had so much excitement in years. At the smell of blood they all started dancing and bellowing, with their tails up and eyes rolling. You cant beat the smell of it to turn old dairies into frisky heifers.
    Once his lordship had vanished into the dust and agitation of the cow-herd, the Great White Hunter, full of apoligies, legged it to the jeep and stuffed the 7mm full of cartridges, putting a few in his pocket that were left over from the packet. The friend who had gone with him watched him load up and said "shit, we dont want to kill the whole herd, just finish of the bull". The White hunter just snorted and said "If those stupid Halal experts had had only waited a few seconds it would be all over now. Why dont you feed them a bit of meat occasionally"
    His friend just laughed and said "would you like me to go and get dads old four bore to back you up? - Id say its quite a while since you last shot anything-outside the Norfolk that is. Last time I was there with you the bar was knee deep in lions, rhinos, and bloody great tusks. Wait until I tell this one about great savage Brahmins those mates of yours will keep me in drinks for months"
    Such threats didnt even warrant an answer, and the Great White Hunter stalked off towards the cloud of dust at the far end of the paddock. It was a fairly large paddock, dusty, and with a scrubby gully at the far end. It wasnt until they were three - quarters of the way across that they both wondered why they hadnt taken the jeep while behind them the crowd tagged along to see the fun and carry out the important halal.
    The friend taking every oportunity to rub it in, and remind the Great White Hunter that the cows were worth a fortune and not to go shooting any by mistake. The closer they got to the herd the less he liked the look of them. The cows had got their tails up and looked less like a herd of milkers every second. Half a dozen were pawing the ground, frothing at the mouth and bellowing. The rest had gathered in a tight bunch. There was no sign of the wounded bull.
    At the risk of ridicule, the Great White Hunter said "Send Ali for the jeep". Its the easiest way to sort this lot out. His friend called to Ali, "Jeep Pesa pesa" Now Ali in Honour of the occasion was wearing his best white 'kanzu' a sort of flowing nightgown thing, so when he took off "pesa pesa" it flapped and fluttered in the breeze. That did it, those dear old valuable, bug eyed milk cows shed 1000 years of domestication and charged the lot. There was no where to go and to shoot one or two was unthinkable. The hunter and his friend just stood together, yelling and waving their hats, and at the first sign of hesitation they rushed at the heard which split around them and took off tits flapping, after the many flapping night shirts all heading for the stockyards.
    The dust would have choked a lizard. The two friends stood there laughing, coughing and wiping the tears from their eyes when, without warning, the bull came out of the dust and knocked them both to the ground. He caught the friend with a horn, hooking him in the hip and tossing him a good six metres. The hunter lost his rifle but could see it about 2 metres away. The bull went after his friend again, but when the hunter struggled to get his rifle, he found something was broken in his left leg and he fell, landing on his hands and knees. The movement distracted the bull from kneeling on his friend and the hunter just had enough time to get the safety catch off and put a shot into the animals chest before the bull got him too. He might as well have spat on the bull for all the effect it had he said.
    "As he hooked me I rolled aside, all the while trying to reload. He missed with the first swipe, but got me in the ribs with the second. That was the worst pain I ever experienced. I can remember thinking "This is it killed by a goddamned farm bull" In the distance I vaguely remember hearing two tremendous expolsions then nothing till I woke up in hospital.......
    The bull had just been wondering which one to grind up into meat paste first, when Ali arrived with the jeep and gave him both barrels from the 577 out of the rack.......
    The Great White Hunter still walks with a slight limp and will carry a huge scar on his chest till the day he dies......
    As he finished the story he puffed a while on his pipe and tossed me the tobacco pouch, saying "Guess what that is made of?"
    Last edited by Scribe; 04-08-2012 at 06:34 PM.



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