STRANGELY, trophy-hunting has a way of bringing out certain character traits in people – both good and bad. Sometimes it manifests propensities they may seldom reveal in the normal course of their lives. Ernest Hemingway’s book, The Green Hills of Africa, graphically demonstrates this. Hemingway brought his friend Karl along on this safari, who, by that most important of all factors in hunting – luck – managed consistently to bag bigger trophies than Hemingway did. For all its powerful passages and beautiful descriptions, the book manifests Hemingway’s seething jealousy and ugly competitive spirit. Its literary merit lies largely in his honesty.
contributor Terry Irwin once wrote of a client who wanted a trophy nyala. As luck would have it, they came across two mature bulls feeding together in thick bush, both magnificent trophies. Glassing them, Terry saw that one had very slightly longer horns than the other, and told his client to shoot that one. As is often the case, the client could see only one animal and, assuming it to be the one Terry was indicating, shot it. As it fell, Terry said, “Oh… you shot the
