A ‘hunting we shall go

Bossy was invited on a BOERS HUNTING TRIP on Friday. The gentleman who did the inviting was the same beefy farmer who lifted me up and spun me around at his daughter's wedding. Bossy and I very naughtily refer to him as "J.R" [ Ewing] .

This is the time of year for hunting, and many of the farmers spend regular weekends in each other's company, drinking and popping away at wild creatures. Returning with laden Bakkies and hangovers. "Hunting" is very much the "Male ritual" here in the Northern Cape.

Bossy, despite being a crack shot, has NEVER killed a living creature in his life. Preferring clay prey, to the furred or feathered sort. The other thing that he has NEVER done in all the years I have known him..is camped...you know :sleeping bags, campfires, sausages on sticks and GingangGooly.

Accepting J.R`s invitation, meant that he was going to have to break new ground on at least two fronts, to my amazement he accepted.

Friday afternoon saw him scuttling around trying to locate a sleeping bag, a blanket, pillows and warm clothes. He very loudly shouted at Dottie, who was Skyping with me, to say that he never slept anywhere unless it had "HILTON" written above the door, and there was NO WAY he would be caught dead sleeping under the stars.

"Is there anything else I should take with me?" he asked... "No", I responded with confidence!...whoops I thought as he exited the drive.....He didn't take toilet roll....Everyone knows that you need toilet roll on camping trips..Particularly Hunting AND camping trips.

.... WELL WELL!

Bossy BEFORE his initiation with a large Gemsbok bull

During the course of Saturday morning...and much to my irritation,[ I was still reeling from RED KITE at this point] I received several calls from members of Bossies , inebriated, hunting party explaining that he was still out hunting [with J.R], and they were back at "BASE CAMP".

They felt that I should know that he had slept under the stars and that he had shot his first creature and undergone his initiation ceremony. At this point in the "conversation" the caller broke into hysterical cackles and someone else took over in slurred Afrikaans. It was one of those calls ,where clearly, you HAD to be there, to understand how convulsingly amusing, it all appeared to be.

Bossy returned late on Saturday afternoon, looking as though he had been involved in a massacre...covered in blood from the roots of his now, red hair..to the boots on his feet. He stunk. Worse still there were several large dead animals in the back of "The Raisin". I have to admit to having a complete sense of humour failure; this is obviously a boy thing!

He dispatched himself [with his kills] to Gerrit, who provides a butchery service for local hunters, and offloaded. I didn't even need to ask him to strip, before coming inside the farm..he did so and hopped into a shower ,where he stood for about half an hour.

I have some idea of what went on in the "initiation ceremony" from the photos, and there are NOT pretty. Something similar a grown up Lord of the Flies episode.

I remain completely gob smacked by Bossies apparent delight in the experience, and have decided that the longer I reside here, the more of a "Sissy" I become.