With time various topics, most connected to the 'ancient ways,' will be covered. Some of these might be controversial in nature - you're most welcome to contribute.

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Whispering About ...

 I took the new bow through some heavy country today, hoping to run into something ... but this is not what it is all about.  It's all about walking where others don't walk and seeing things others would never see ... it's about reading things, little things that tell stories, stories of the night before ... tracks in the sand ...  That place under a tree where some bird roost every night, you see the droppings and you wonder ... what is your name bird?
 
 The new bow ... Kassai Wolf I ... the quiver part of the pack ...

Hollow burned tree ... droppings of various creatures underneath ...
My life in Africa was full and interesting ... today many ask me, how can you live here?  The answer is simplistic ... when you see 'little things' painted by Nature, you'll be home anywhere.  The scat and tracks of a fox tell a story ... is that story that different that of a leopard?  The stomping of a kangaroo, because it sensed you first ... is that different from the alarming bark of a kudu?  Your eyes must read the same signs, your ears must pick up similar sounds ... you must read the same signs on the ground ...

Scat of a pig ...
Walking these areas, not even a kilometer from my place, I feel free ... because I must pick my ears, watch my back, read the ground, look through the bush, keep track of where I am, watch where I place my feet.  Every cell in my body suddenly awake ... I pick up the smell of pigs, the nesting place of the roo's.  I'm alive like never before ...

Last night's pig diggings for nut grass ...
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You walk with your bow in hand, arrow ready ... because anything can happen any time.  Every single time a roo spot you first ... or a rabbit, the white tail of a deer ... you know, you're lacking way, way behind.  It's time to pick up your game, time to adapt ... if you don't, you'll go hungry ... you'll die.  This is the game, the game the prey animals play with you ... some you'll never, never get ... and that's the way it should be ... they are the ones you'll sing and dance about around little fires.  You'll paint them on rock walls ... you'll respect them.  The others will fall to your silent arrows and you'll take out the weaker genes.  At the same time, you'll put yourself up for a challenge, because soon you won't be able to stalk and track the superb survivors ... now it's your turn, you'll have to pick up your game ... if you don't ... you won't eat and your genes will be scattered all over the place ...

Discovered this little waterhole, where the Dingo stopped as well ...

There are little places like this all around you ... you don't have to kill anything, but you can take up the challenge and test your own abilities against the greatest of all ...


Good mud is scarce in the granite country, but the pigs found this little wallow ...


Come spring ... I'll cross this dam with my horse ...

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