A Safari Before Dinner

I crept out of the abandoned grass hut ever so carefully. Wild animals and tribal head hunters frequented this area. Caution was the key to surviving conditions such as these.

The air was rich with the aroma of damp earth, and decaying vegetation. I inched my way through the jungle foliage enveloping myself in the dark green curtain. The canopy above was alive with activity. Squawks and screeches could be heard from every direction, some familiar others not quite so. Though difficult to maneuver through, this lush, thick blanket of green offered perfect camouflage from any predators in the area.

This jungle was also ideal cover for the four toed howling mongrenasher. A nasher (as we hunters prefer to call it) is a vicious beast equipped with razor sharp fangs capable of ripping an arm or leg off in seconds. It’s a hideous predator known for its keen vision, superior hearing, and a nose that can smell a dinner a mile away. This extremely rare creature was considered the ultimate trophy of any true hunter, and this creature I was determined to track down.

With trusty rifle in hand, I silently wove my way through the moist, heavy undergrowth, keeping my senses keenly alert for clues to aid in tracking my prey. The toe of my boot caught on a smooth, hard, ivory colored object pushing through the dark soil. Upon further examination, I discovered this object to be a large, half gnawed bone. Nashers were known for burying their victims. This was an obvious sign that the hunted did inhabit the area. I pushed forward finding more and more evidence that I was on the trail of the beast.

I came to the edge of a large clearing with a green carpet of grass, a perfect location to stop and rest my aching body. I walked towards the middle of the clearing when suddenly to my right I spotted the biggest nasher I had ever seen! Luckily the creature was sleeping and unaware of my presence. I was only a few yards from this giant animal, close enough to hear its deep breathing, and see an occasional fly tickle its ear.

A warm breeze wafted the beast’s rancid odor into my unsuspecting face. With several hard swallows I managed to keep my breakfast in my belly as the horrendous stench blistered my nose.

With heart pounding, and sweat rolling, I slowly raised my weapon, putting a fine bead on the head of the massive beast. With great care I eased my finger onto the trigger, squeezing in gently…….CLICK…. My rifle was jammed! My only choice now, was to take on the ferocious critter with my bare hands.

Flat on my belly, I slid through the grass like a snake, inching towards the animal. I worked my way so close that I could see the moisture on the creature’s shiny black nose.

I was moving to the back end of the monster when my foot caught on a twig breaking it in two with a loud snap! I froze in position, praying that the noise did not wake the mighty beast. My prayers were not answered.

The nasher jumped to attention, its shaggy head darting this way and that, looking for the reason its nap was abruptly interrupted. It spotted the red cap I always wear when hunting, and charged me at a dead run. I leaped to my feet and tried to flee, but the animal was just too fast. With a mighty bound, it tackled me to the ground and immediately began licking my face, a very common practice for a nasher prior to devouring its victim.

I managed to wrestle the animal onto its back where I quickly started scratching its belly. This action was the only weakness a nasher was known to have. When applied correctly, the beast would fall into a deep trance and one hind leg would usually go into uncontrollable spasms. Although my technique was a little rusty, it was getting the job done. The nasher was at my mercy. As I moved in to finish him off ……

“Joey! Dinner is ready. Leave the dog alone and come inside. Wash your hands and face really well after playing with that filthy mongrel.”

"Ah Mom, can’t I ever have any fun?"