|When I was living alone in a house, before I was filed away in an apartment building I was honored to be allowed to hunt a particularly vivious man eating tiger with the famous British hunter, Jim Corbett. Jim was famous for killing tigers and leopards which preyed on villagers and railroad workmen, in India. He wrote a number of books on the subject. He died in 1955, but lives on in the secret places of my mind.|
So, on this particular night, there we were, me and Jim, perched high in a tree (my rocker) watching the live bait goat we staked out (bread crumbs), me clutching my Westley Richards .505 (Daisy 1000 shot Red Ryder BB gun), patiently waiting for our prey, a deadly man killer tiger, (mouse). Without warning our hunt was interrupted by a herd of rampaging elephants tramping down the trail.(My daughter). 'Whatinell you doing sitting there with that BB gun'? She demanded as she entered my dingy house. 'What's that mess of crumbs doing on the floor? Why don't you tidy up at least a little'? She rudely ignored my pal Jim as she swept up the bread crumbs. I explained to her that I was after a mouse. She suggested a trap. Horrors. Jim would NEVER allow a steel trap to be used on such a noble beast as a tiger or leopard. They had to be hunted at night, sitting in a tree amid clouds of insects, (flies that found their way in through the many holes in the screens). Dear clueless daughter said, as she stomped out carrying my trash bags, 'then less make it night', and turned off the light, slamming the door. Jim and I sat in the dark for a long while, silently cursing elephant herds, (women). When sunup finally came (I got up and turned on the light)our bait was gone. Well Jim, there is always another night. We climbed out of the tree (my chair) and put away our guns and retired to our tents, (bed).
Submitted By: Hoppy from IA on 2009-11-05