One Heck Of A Ride

110 Liberia And Its Duikers There probably were crocodiles lurking in the murky water as I climbed into the tippy canoe they had chopped out of a long log, but they were the last things I would have thought about that day. I was more concerned about the gun Banks had provided me. Dr. Holdsworth and I were both given single-shot Russian-made 12-gauge shotguns with shotshells loaded with No. 4 shot. The most tactful thing I can say about mine was that it was “vintage.” Fortunately, it fired every time I wanted to shoot something. Once on the other side, I was introduced to my guides Boroboro Saloe and Hernztg Quien as well as the chief and his elders before being taken away from the village to be blessed by the village’s spiritual leader. It has become politically incorrect in recent years to use the word “jungle,” but “rainforest” does not adequately describe the Liberian jungle where we hunted. Tarzan, Jane and Cheeta would have felt right at home in that tangle of tall hardwood trees, vines, creepers and virtually every type of tropical vegetation. As for the slithering things that inhabit the African tropics, my guide said there was no shortage of mambas, cobras, adders and vipers. Fortunately, other than the slow-moving Gabon viper that Mel Toppence saw, we did not encounter them. Our pants and boots were constantly wet from wading small streams, but it didn’t matter. Our clothes were drenched with perspiration, and the four inches of rain that fell each day was a blessing that cooled us and kept our shirts from becoming stiff from the salt in our sweat. I did not have problems with my feet because I had bought military boots like those used in Vietnam especially for this hunt. They worked perfectly and kept my feet very comfortable. Interestingly, although it was hotter and more humid one night than any sauna I’ve ever taken, I could see my own breath, just as in cold weather. I couldn’t understand why my guides were Because of the possibility of attracting a leopard the guide was reluctant to call forest creatures to the author by using his hands, nose and mouth at night. reluctant to try calling the duikers we were hunting until I realized they were petrified at the thought of having a leopard respond. When I convinced them that my shotgun was the perfect weapon for a big cat at point-blank range, we stopped every thirty minutes or so and sat with our backs to trees while Quien used his nose and mouth to imitate the sounds that the various duikers make. We sometimes could hear the sounds of an animal rustling leaves close to us before it ran off, and there were a couple of small antelopes that appeared and quickly disappeared before I could shoot. We also came upon two bushbucks and crossed several trails used by bongos. Other than that, nothing much happened that night. Both the guide and caller agreed that the bongo tracks were a day and a half old. (Later, we heard three bongos jump up and run off at one of our duiker stands. They apparently had been bedded mere yards away when we walked up.) My first decent chance at a duiker that first night came when I saw the eye of an animal suddenly appear from behind a small palm fifteen feet in front of me. The creature froze briefly when my headlamp lit it up. I was sitting with the shotgun between my knees and simply raised it to my shoulder and pulled the trigger.