TokkieM
AH fanatic
- Joined
- Aug 4, 2012
- Messages
- 997
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- Location
- Sweden/South Africa
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- 63
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- 3
- Hunted
- South Africa,Zimbabwe,Sweden
My first encounters with “wild “ animals came at a tender young age, both became very memorable and to this day I enjoy hunting baboons more than any normal person should, no trip to Africa is complete unless I get to shoot at least one. I am sure a psychologist could fix this little problem, but why????
My dad enjoyed taking us to the Krugersdorp municipal game reserve which was home to a troop of baboons; they stayed in an area close to the main entrance in a leaf less gum tree , polished smoothed and bright by them constantly climbing up and down the trunk and branches . There was always one male baboon that would stray of from the main troop and highjack a car before it reached the gum tree, he would sit in the middle of the road and wait for the car to stop, jump on the hood and beg for anything he could. The sign at the gate clearly stated that feeding these guys was prohibited and that all windows should be closed when approaching them. Well my brother Pieter paid no attention to this as his window was slightly open; he was always a risky kind of fellow. Mr. Baboon soon found this opening and stuck his hairy arm through the small opening, trying to grab the sweets my brother had in his hands, unfortunately for my brother and I suppose the baboon, he only managed to grab a hand full of blond hair firmly attached to my brother’s scalp! A baboon rarely lets go of anything if he thinks it’s worthwhile hanging onto, this baboon was no exception, my brother was by now out of the seat with his head firmly being tugged against the window and screaming like he did when my baby brother Chris had crapped in the bath tub when they bathed together, only now I think he also had crapped himself( an experience I fully comprehend as many years later I sat in a hide and when I stood up to look through the window I came nose to nose with a baboon). The baboon on the other side of the window was hanging on for dear life trying to pry his prize out of the tiny opening in the window. My mother was screaming too and come to think of it so were I and my baby brother because we got wedged between the two front seats as we both tried to escape the horror taking place in the back seat of that old Mazda Capella. All the action inside the vehicle made the baboon more anxious and he redoubled his attempts to extricate my brother through the small opening in the window, by now the baboon was screaming louder than all of us together. My father stopped the car as safely and as under control as the circumstances would allow, not easy with a wife screaming ,two little buggers trying to get onto his lap from the back seat and my baboon wrapped brother hollering blue murder with the baboon creating a crescendo of sound that would raise the dead! In hind sight I think he was also not too sure of how to proceed with the man grabbing baboon once he stopped the car. Luckily for us, well most of us the baboon planted his rear legs firmly against the window one last time and gave an almighty tug, he managed to pull a whole bunch of hair right out of my brother’s scalp, leaving a bald spot as big as an apple. My brother eventually stopped crying and all traces that remained of his ordeal that day was the bald spot on his scalp, the baboons foot prints on the outside of the cars window and some snot and tear stains from my brother on the inside of the window.
My second encounter with “Tame Game” was at a much more personal interactive level, me being the person and the baboon wanting to become interactive. My grandfather kept a baboon as a pet on his farm near Krugersdorp, one that was orphaned somehow; this baboon was kept on a chain tied to a pole with his house neatly perched on top of said pole. The house was the size of a big dog kennel and for generations this was an excepted way to keep a baboon. This particular baboon was a very large male, one that only my grandfather could control and feed, he saw us children as subordinates in his troop. My cousin Albertus and I where reading the latest DC comics on the large sun soaked veranda during our regular school holiday visits to our grandparents. That big old slate veranda with the red and white bougainvillea that crept up along the pillars was our favorite morning spot as the early morning sun baked the winter cold from our still growing bodies, besides that, it had a view of the whole front garden and gate. I was halfway through a Batman comic and paying little attention to anything else as it took all my concentration to read the English language. It was with some surprise and distain that I felt more than see someone pulling at the top of my comic book, not wanting to lose concentration or my place, I said “Albertus vat jou hand van my comic af of ek bliksem vir jou” (Albertus remove your hand from my comic or I will beat you up), all of this without so much as missing a word of reading. There was a very short moment of silence and the pulling action repeated itself, now I was pissed off and stated bluntly how deep I was going to shove my fist down his throat to inspect his rectum. He sharply replied he had laid no hand on my comic book. A few things happened simultaneously then, I stopped reading and lowered my comic book, Albertus was starting to run and I thought it was due to my threats of violence, until my comic book was lowered half way and I looked deep into the black beady eyes of one very large baboon!! Needless to say I caught up with Albertus before he reached the front door although he had had a good head start over me, the baboon must have got just as big a fright as we did as he did not catch up with us until we were both safely behind closed doors. Our ranting and raving quickly alerted the black nanny that something sinister was happening! She came running at speed, quite surprising for a woman her age and size, red head scarf bouncing with every step in utter unicision with her large bosom and bottom. Her first reaction was to grab Albertus and myself and lock us in the toilet, big mistake as this was the only place the window was open and to high for us children to reach. The baboon had by now discovered the open window and tried to climb through, our screams could be heard on the neighboring farm I was sure, and for a moment or two I was sure that the lime green toilet walls were going to be covered with my blood. The nanny came running back to the toilet and opened the door, we brushed passed her so fast (more likely through her, as she filled the whole door), and she was still going forward into the toilet to rescue us when we locked the door behind her! The nanny survived and so did we, my grandfather came home later and tied the baboon up without much fuss from the baboon. Only later did we discover my two older brothers had been teasing the baboon until his collar broke, they fled into the maize fields leaving us with the big hairy, comic grabbing baboon.
My dad enjoyed taking us to the Krugersdorp municipal game reserve which was home to a troop of baboons; they stayed in an area close to the main entrance in a leaf less gum tree , polished smoothed and bright by them constantly climbing up and down the trunk and branches . There was always one male baboon that would stray of from the main troop and highjack a car before it reached the gum tree, he would sit in the middle of the road and wait for the car to stop, jump on the hood and beg for anything he could. The sign at the gate clearly stated that feeding these guys was prohibited and that all windows should be closed when approaching them. Well my brother Pieter paid no attention to this as his window was slightly open; he was always a risky kind of fellow. Mr. Baboon soon found this opening and stuck his hairy arm through the small opening, trying to grab the sweets my brother had in his hands, unfortunately for my brother and I suppose the baboon, he only managed to grab a hand full of blond hair firmly attached to my brother’s scalp! A baboon rarely lets go of anything if he thinks it’s worthwhile hanging onto, this baboon was no exception, my brother was by now out of the seat with his head firmly being tugged against the window and screaming like he did when my baby brother Chris had crapped in the bath tub when they bathed together, only now I think he also had crapped himself( an experience I fully comprehend as many years later I sat in a hide and when I stood up to look through the window I came nose to nose with a baboon). The baboon on the other side of the window was hanging on for dear life trying to pry his prize out of the tiny opening in the window. My mother was screaming too and come to think of it so were I and my baby brother because we got wedged between the two front seats as we both tried to escape the horror taking place in the back seat of that old Mazda Capella. All the action inside the vehicle made the baboon more anxious and he redoubled his attempts to extricate my brother through the small opening in the window, by now the baboon was screaming louder than all of us together. My father stopped the car as safely and as under control as the circumstances would allow, not easy with a wife screaming ,two little buggers trying to get onto his lap from the back seat and my baboon wrapped brother hollering blue murder with the baboon creating a crescendo of sound that would raise the dead! In hind sight I think he was also not too sure of how to proceed with the man grabbing baboon once he stopped the car. Luckily for us, well most of us the baboon planted his rear legs firmly against the window one last time and gave an almighty tug, he managed to pull a whole bunch of hair right out of my brother’s scalp, leaving a bald spot as big as an apple. My brother eventually stopped crying and all traces that remained of his ordeal that day was the bald spot on his scalp, the baboons foot prints on the outside of the cars window and some snot and tear stains from my brother on the inside of the window.
My second encounter with “Tame Game” was at a much more personal interactive level, me being the person and the baboon wanting to become interactive. My grandfather kept a baboon as a pet on his farm near Krugersdorp, one that was orphaned somehow; this baboon was kept on a chain tied to a pole with his house neatly perched on top of said pole. The house was the size of a big dog kennel and for generations this was an excepted way to keep a baboon. This particular baboon was a very large male, one that only my grandfather could control and feed, he saw us children as subordinates in his troop. My cousin Albertus and I where reading the latest DC comics on the large sun soaked veranda during our regular school holiday visits to our grandparents. That big old slate veranda with the red and white bougainvillea that crept up along the pillars was our favorite morning spot as the early morning sun baked the winter cold from our still growing bodies, besides that, it had a view of the whole front garden and gate. I was halfway through a Batman comic and paying little attention to anything else as it took all my concentration to read the English language. It was with some surprise and distain that I felt more than see someone pulling at the top of my comic book, not wanting to lose concentration or my place, I said “Albertus vat jou hand van my comic af of ek bliksem vir jou” (Albertus remove your hand from my comic or I will beat you up), all of this without so much as missing a word of reading. There was a very short moment of silence and the pulling action repeated itself, now I was pissed off and stated bluntly how deep I was going to shove my fist down his throat to inspect his rectum. He sharply replied he had laid no hand on my comic book. A few things happened simultaneously then, I stopped reading and lowered my comic book, Albertus was starting to run and I thought it was due to my threats of violence, until my comic book was lowered half way and I looked deep into the black beady eyes of one very large baboon!! Needless to say I caught up with Albertus before he reached the front door although he had had a good head start over me, the baboon must have got just as big a fright as we did as he did not catch up with us until we were both safely behind closed doors. Our ranting and raving quickly alerted the black nanny that something sinister was happening! She came running at speed, quite surprising for a woman her age and size, red head scarf bouncing with every step in utter unicision with her large bosom and bottom. Her first reaction was to grab Albertus and myself and lock us in the toilet, big mistake as this was the only place the window was open and to high for us children to reach. The baboon had by now discovered the open window and tried to climb through, our screams could be heard on the neighboring farm I was sure, and for a moment or two I was sure that the lime green toilet walls were going to be covered with my blood. The nanny came running back to the toilet and opened the door, we brushed passed her so fast (more likely through her, as she filled the whole door), and she was still going forward into the toilet to rescue us when we locked the door behind her! The nanny survived and so did we, my grandfather came home later and tied the baboon up without much fuss from the baboon. Only later did we discover my two older brothers had been teasing the baboon until his collar broke, they fled into the maize fields leaving us with the big hairy, comic grabbing baboon.
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LOL Glad you survived to tell the tale.
