LEOPARDS CAN'T COUNT

By John C. Sullivan Jr

John C. Sullivan, Jr. was a practicing attorney in Jackson, Mississippi for 58 years and a peer rated AV Preeminent Attorney by Martindale Hubble for many of those years. He is an Eagle Scout and a Vigil member of the Order

• Language: English
• Publisher: John C. Sullivan Jr
• Release date: Jun 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781088155912

Book preview

Chapter One

Leopards Can’t Count

This is an old story but a good story that concerns dangers, successes, failures, hard lessons learned, and it is completely true. So, my friend, put another log on our campfire, drag up a chair, and I shall begin.

A number of years ago, I went on a DIY Safari in Zimbabwe, Africa with a longtime hunting buddy, and that opportunity may very well STILL be available for you if you take the time and make the effort to contact the Zimbabwe Game Department.

This is how we did ours:

About mid-afternoon on a dreary Tuesday in early March of 1986, I received a long-distance telephone call at my law office in Jackson, Mississippi. The voice began with Sully and I knew in an instant that it was my best friend, William Garth Dooley Gilchrist, III. I knew that he was in South Africa visiting his friend, Peter Knott while escaping the wrath of yet another estranged wife. Nevertheless, I was surprised to hear his voice. He explained that Peter had just told him that the Zimbabwe Game Department was about to have its annual auction for several fourteen-day DIY hunts in remote areas of the Zambezi River Valley for lion, leopard, Cape buffalo, and many other species of wild African game. Dooley said that he planned to fly up to Harare and attend the auction on Friday morning to bid and asked if I wanted to split the cost of that and any other expenses that we might incur and join him if he was successful in purchasing the hunt.

I asked him what he thought it would cost and he said, Not that much. Then he added that I should just unlock my wallet and let him bid this coming Friday.

Since both Dooley and I had a good bit of experience hunting in Africa with others but had never hunted there together, I figured he knew what he was doing, and it would be very enjoyable and a lot of fun to hunt with him in wild Africa on a DIY basis.

Hum mm, I thought for just a moment and then replied Okay! and he hung up.

He telephoned me again on Saturday and told me that he was able to purchase the hunt for $3,500.00 US Dollars and that I should meet him on his birthday, May 3, at the Jameson Hotel in Harare. I asked him if that was $3,500.00 each and he said, No, that was $3,500.00 in US Dollars TOTAL plus we will split the cost of all expenses.

Since I had a good idea of what it cost to take a Safari, I asked why this hunt was so inexpensive.

He explained that as the Rhodesian Bush War had ended badly for the white government, many of the white farm families had begun to flee the country because Robert Mugabe and his black political party had taken power. Upon taking power, they announced among other drastic measures, that they intended to seize many farms owned by whites and distribute them to their black War Vets as a reward for their service. As a consequence, the value of the Rhodesia/Zimbabwe dollar had fallen rapidly and was continuing to fall and that was causing a lot of economic uncertainty. Therefore, he and Peter had guessed that there would probably be only a very few bidders at the auction, and they were correct. Then added that Sully, frankly we were just plain lucky.

I was astonished by our good fortune!

I then asked him what I should bring and he replied that I should bring anything that I thought that I would need or that he would need plus two battery powered camp lanterns, two hand torches or flashlights, some extra batteries and the largest plastic ice chest that the airline would let me ship. Then he paused for a moment as if thinking and added And don’t forget to start taking your malaria pills at least two weeks before you come.

I said Okay and we did not speak to each other again until I showed up at the Jameson Hotel on the evening of May 3, almost two months later. There was no reason for us to telephone each other because we completely trusted one another.

One would think that two men of our age with the physical impairments that we both had would not take a DIY hunt in a very wild part of Africa. For example, Dooley only had one good eye. As a young boy he had been blinded in his right eye when it was forcefully struck by a large rubber band that was cut from an old, often patched bicycle tire’s inter tube that was shot at him while playing with another boy. The rubber band, cut crossways, was stretched and loaded on a rubber gun that had been fashioned from a wooden board cut to appear like a crude pistol. A spring-operated clothespin was then taped to its handle to act as a trigger. When one end of the rubber was stretched from the front of the so-called barrel of the gun and the other end was inserted into the mouth of the open clothespin and when closed, the gun was loaded. When the clothespin was squeezed, it released the stretched rubber band and that is what struck Dooley’s right eye and destroyed its vision.

Towards the end of World War II, toys were very scarce in the States as just about all useable metal and rubber products had been used in the war effort so most boys made their own toys. I am not certain about girls.

Having only a left good eye that he could see out of, Dooley had to shoot a rifle left-handed, and as most rifles are made for right-handed shooters that meant that he had to bend his head to see through the rifle’s telescopic sight or scope to shoot. Then he had to lift his head in order to eject the spent cartridge and reload by using his right hand to work the bolt and doing that was very awkward but through practice he was able to do it rather well.

As for me, I had lost my right lung and a small part of my left one due to the growth of some cysts on my lungs of which I was unaware of some years earlier. Unfortunately, those cysts burst while I was on a high-altitude mountain climb with my longtime friend, Attorney Harlon H. Varnado, who also lived and practiced law in Jackson but that’s another story. In any event, one could not really tell that I was physically impaired because my body had somehow adjusted and I was seldom out of breath.

So, that was the state of our physical condition in 1986.

After I had arrived in Harare and had checked in at the Jameson hotel, I followed the porter who took me, my luggage and rifle case to Dooley’s room and knocked on the door. I heard his voice say Door’s Open as he was talking on the phone with his estranged wife. He was sitting on the side of one of the twin beds with his shirtless back turned towards me and when he hung up and turned around had I not recognized his voice I would have thought that he was a gentleman of color because his skin was darkly tanned from its long exposure to African sun since he had been there visiting Peter for a number of months during his escape.

Peter lived in the town of Louis Trichardt located in northern South Africa and owned a very large amount of land further to the North where he and his son, Howard, grew fruit such as oranges and lemons that they shipped to Europe to be sold by others. Peter and Howard also had a large number of wild African game animals on that land and had organized a Safari business that they named Greater Kuduland Safaris. Howard actually lived on that land and Peter and Dooley had driven up there often so that he and Howard could discuss and handle business matters in their office.

As Dooley had a passion for hunting wild African game, he made the most of that time while the other two were busy and hunt he did during every daylight hour of every day for all types of plains game including Impala, Gemsbok, Roan, and many other species and it was all free for the taking. Can you imagine that?

Peter has since passed away but Howard is still operating their other businesses plus the Safari business. You can contact him by email at: [e-mail]. Howard is a great guy and host and I thought so much of him after I met him through Dooley while he had attended college in Texas that I spent part of my honeymoon with my new wife, Elizabeth Ann Alexander. My grandson, Jonathan David Turello, and her nephew, Alex MacCurdy, both of whom were about eighteen years old at the time had accompanied us to Victoria Falls to serve as our two witnesses to our marriage. I am confident that you will enjoy your hunt with Howard and his team as much as we did!

Got the lanterns, torches, and extra batteries? Dooley asked.

Sure, I replied.

And I see you brought the ice chest.

Yep, the largest that I could ship. I packed my clothes in it plus a large duffle bag to take them home when I leave you the ice chest. In fact, I may also purchase a few books and if I trade my clothes for some used Rhodesian army camo like I did last time everything should fit. You know, their camo is just perfect for hunting whitetail deer and turkey in Mississippi. Then I added, I even bought some hunting glasses, the ones with the yellow lenses like yours that you showed me the last time we were hunting in Texas. Man, they really do make the image of an animal stand out in the woods.

Author                    Dooley

Good, he said. We leave at dawn tomorrow.

Dooley got up and walked over to a table where an opened bottle of wine was and poured us both a glass, and mine was very, very good. At the time, I didn’t know very much about wine but Dooley knew a great deal about wine and especially fine wines and he mainly drank fine wine. In fact, he had sold hundreds of cases to his many friends and also to the customers of some of his many businesses over the years. Dooley was about seven years older than me and he had graduated in engineering from the University of Tennessee before I had even started college.

He and his father had stripped mined coal for a while and later his younger brother, Bob, joined them and they formed a corporation named Gilchrist and Sons that built roads throughout the States of Alabama and Mississippi. They also had a leasing business until they bought the Caterpillar Dealership in Mississippi and then their father started slowing down and decided to move to the state of Wyoming to enjoy some cooler weather for a change. My point being that Dooley was getting all of this real-life experience while I was trudging through college and law school but I did finish two years early for whatever that’s worth.

Dooley finally made enough money to semi retire and moved to Texas where he purchased a majority interest in a business in Seguin selling fine Kleinguenther rifles that were manufactured in Germany. They had some stiff completion with the American companies of Remington, Winchester, Savage, Ruger etc. but Dooley was very knowable in that field and the business turned a respectable annual profit but all of that time he was selling cases and cases of fine wines on the side and probably making some good money at that also. However, his real passion was hunting and soon he had made enough money to enjoy that passion by guiding hunters from many other states who knew of his reputation through his lifelong membership in Safari Club International and had come to hunt whitetail deer and exotic, non-indigenous animals in Texas on the side. He named his side business Hunts and Happenings and it surely was!

By then his brother, Bob, had formed Dura Patcher Corporation in Mississippi to resurface roads and streets and Dooley took on the Texas dealership and since Texas is no small state, Dooley got his next-door neighbor, Tom Garrett, who was also originally from Mississippi, to help him and that business is still growing.

By the time that I first met him, Dooley he already had a great deal of hunting and business experience. You know, during all the years that I knew him Dooley never used any four-letter cuss words or any cuss words. I never even heard him say anything critical about anyone. Once I told him that I heard someone that I’ll just call So and So made an unkind comment about him and he just smiled and answered Well, Sully, that’s just the way he thinks, I guess. He was and still is the most fascinating man that I had ever known.

After pouring us two glasses of wine, Dooley sat back down on the side of the bed again and I sat in the only chair. He took a sip of his and started explaining that he had made a deal with a white farmer, who had apparently decided to continue farming in Zimbabwe in the face of the new government's threat, to lend us four of his boys to help us during our DIY Safari. In those days, the use of the word boys was in common use in the hunting world although it is frowned upon today with the changing times as they were actually black adult male farm workers. If you watch many hunting shows on television, as I do, they are generally referred to as guys because SCI, Houston, and Dallas Safari Clubs have all clamped down on that for obvious reasons and it is probably well that they did.

The boys were to help us set up, maintain and guard our camp while we were hunting in exchange for the biltong or jerky as it is called in the States and would cut and cure the meat of the animals we shot and use it to feed their families. Then he added a little surprise and that the farmer’s son, Michael, a young white lad about eighteen years old would also be coming along to help with any translations plus enjoy a short vacation from the farm.

Dooley explained that while waiting for me to arrive, he had been busy getting ready for our Safari. He had rented two Toyota Land Cruisers which were the British model with the steering wheel on its right side as Rhodesia, now renamed Zimbabwe, was once an English colony, and vehicles were driven on the left side of the road. He had also rented some tents, cots, and mosquito netting, purchased the groceries, and even remembered to include a couple of cases of Castle Beer for me, packed the trucks, purchased the petrol plus filled up a steel drum that apparently held many liters of petrol and parked the trucks with the supplies behind the hotel in a locked enclosure.

Hearing all of this I said, Man, you have been a busy guy. Thank you!

None needed. I enjoyed every minute. He replied.

We drove the two trucks to the farmer’s home at dawn the next morning, picked up Michael, the boys, and headed north to check in with the Zimbabwe Game Department and obtain our licenses.

Before we left Michael’s home, I asked him if he would drive as I was uneasy driving on the left side of the road and did not want to be the cause of an accident to which he readily agreed as he apparently did not want to be involved in one either. While driving, he told me that he didn’t want to be a farmer like his father. He wanted to become an airline pilot instead. I have often wondered if he ever did.

Upon reaching the Game Department’s office, we knew that by law it would also supply us a Game Scout, whose job would be to keep up with what we shot and complied with all of the game laws. We both were used to that as we had both hunted in that country before but to our surprise, we were delighted to learn that an extra tracker was available and the Chief Warden in that district told us that we could also take him as a bonus to make sure that we didn’t lose any animals. He also said that he wanted us to have a good hunt and tell others so that more American hunters would come in the future. We did and many have.

We were assigned G camp on the southern bank of the wide, wild Zambezi River.

We would have the exclusive use of about 200,000 hectares and since a hectare equals 2.272 acres, we were talking about an immense territory for fourteen days with no Professional Hunter giving us unwanted directions. We would be free to do what we wanted when we wanted and the feeling was simply a great sense of elation and freedom!

While at the Game Department, I asked for a map but none was to be had so I asked for a sheet of thin paper (in those days it was called onion skin). Then I stood up in a chair and using the Department’s wall map and traced our boundaries on the paper. It was a crude map but it served our purposes as our hunting block would be between the Sapi River on the West and the Chiwore River on the East so that helped a great deal.

We then told Michael that we wanted to go see the escarpment overlooking the Zambezi Valley and since one of the wardens knew his father, Michael wanted to stay there and chat with him so that the two of them would find out what was going on in their particular parts of the country as things were changing rapidly under the new government and he could tell his father upon his return to the farm.

We left the Game Department’s office, the two of us with one of the boys sitting on top of some of our gear in the back and drove towards the escarpment but before reaching it Dooley saw a side road and on a hunch turned onto it because he said that he just thought we should see what wildlife was in the area up there. Over the years, I had begun to rely on Dooley’s hunches as they were very often right. Our gear and rifles were still in the back of the truck as we had not unpacked them because we were just looking and not hunting as we had no license to hunt in that area. When we reached the end of that road, Dooley told the boy to stay with the truck while we walked on a game trail and looked around.

I had decided to take my video camera and was glad I did because we saw a large bull elephant with very good ivory tusks feeding in the trees at a distance and I started filming. Then, all of a sudden the elephant saw us, trumped, spread out both ears, and began to charge. Since the viewfinder on the camera was small, I did not notice it at first but Dooley did and he started running, and I did too when I realized what was happening. I forgot to turn off the camera and it filmed the bottom of Dooley’s shoes and the fronts of mine when I was gaining on him. It turned out to be a false charge and soon stopped after a few hundred meters but we did not know it at the time and we were running for our lives since we could not stop this monster as we knew that our rifles were still packed in their cases in the truck.

I almost erased that portion of the videotape but was glad that I didn’t because you can hear us laughing hysterically when we finally stopped at the truck and Dooley commented that he did not know that a guy as short as me could run that fast.

I replied Well, I was just a bit scared at the time. You ought to see the speed that I can muster when I am really frightened. Then we both laughed.

That may not seem funny to you but that scare sure got our blood pumping and put us in a hunting mood as it was evident that because there was an elephant quietly feeding a lot of game