South Africa and a Black Death Dream Hunt
Cornered in a small clearing, he squared his shoulders, picked up his head, and looked me right in the eye, judging me. I was close enough to watch him sneer. My rifle raised, I traced…
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Hunting in Africa: Unintended Consequences, or How I learned to Love the Zebra
Just like it was a few months prior, the KLM plane from Amsterdam to Johannesburg is almost completely empty. My two traveling companions, plus myself, make up a third of the passengers aboard the Boeing…