by Max Prasac – Sunday, April 14, 2019
This is the tale of a hunt in the mountains of South Africa for a Cape buffalo that required every ounce of energy, conviction and willpower I could muster just to keep up with my Afrikaner professional hunter. This is a tale of sweat, torched calories, twisted ankles, racing hearts and more than a few expressed expletives.
But before I get into “all that” let me say it is “all that” because it is the tale of a hunt for Cape buffalo with a handgun. That’s right, I pursued what many experienced African hunters call “Black Death” with no more than a revolver in hand. It was a big revolver, to be sure, but some would say it was “merely a handgun.” My outfitter thought I might’ve been a bit touched.
I wasn’t. But in fact I could’ve touched the bull before I shot. … Well, almost.
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