Poacher
Authors: Leon Mare
Tags: #africa, #wilderness, #bush, #smuggle, #elephant, #rhino, #shoot, #poach, #kruger park
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 Leon Mare
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment
only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
If you would like to share this book with another person, please
purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading
this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your
use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your
own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this
author.
Leon Mare was born in South Africa, and lived
close to the Kruger National Park for most of his life. He was
involved in extensive wildlife research, and spent all his free
time in the African wilderness. Dr. Mare has an intimate knowledge
of the wilder side of Africa, which is reflected in most of his
work. He has written several TV drama series, and produced a TV
documentary on the indiscriminate killing of marlin on the east
coast of Africa.
His paperback "Dying Is Not Easy" has become
a collectors item, and used copies are now selling on Amazon,
Barnes & Noble and Waterstones for up to $ 1680. The novel has
just been re-published with Smashwords under the title of
"Poacher".
He now lives in the UK, where he owns a
dental practice.
Vixen
The story of Michelle Montagne is not for the
faint-hearted. Her genes held the potential for greatness and
success. Fate had dealt her a good hand, but kept all the aces. Her
destiny was determined by traumatic events from a very early age.
Michelle's life became a continuous battle between good and evil -
and she wanted both. The price was high,and Fate was relentless.
But she was a tiger....
Fighting AIDS
The third book in the Sam Jenkins trilogy. Once the
AIDS virus had undergone a mutation which enabled it to survive in
the salivary glands of a mosquito for up to six hours, the death
rate had soared exponentially. Governments collapsed, and social
order ceased to exist.
The distance a mosquito could fly in six hours became
a paramount factor for survival. Deep in the African wilderness one
could keep intruders at bay. For a while.
Fighting Aids is an action-packed romantic adventure,
concluding the Sam Jenkins trilogy.
Braai
—Barbeque
Casspir
—Soft-armoured troop carrier
Donga
—Narrow valley with steep sides, mostly
formed by erosion
Drift
—Shallow ford crossing a stream or
river
Harvard
—Propeller-driven training aircraft
used by the S.A. Air Force. Fondly known as a flying brick, with
the aerodynamics of a garage door
Hau
—Exclamation in Shangaan language
Lowveld
—The large tract of land stretching
from the escarpment in the West to the Mozambique border in the
East.
Nkosi
—Respectful way of addressing a
superior
Ratel
—Heavily armoured six-wheel drive troop
carrier with a .50 Browning machine gun on the turret. (The name is
derived from the Afrikaans for honey badger, weight-for – weight
probably one of the fiercest animals in the African bush)
Recce
—Abbreviation for the S.A. Special
Forces, the Reconnaissance Battalion. These were hard men, trained
to be ruthlessly efficient in clandestine bush warfare.
Spruit
—Small river
Terrorist
—Someone who kills indiscriminately
for his beliefs. The tools of his trade were usually of Russian
origin - The AK47, RPG7 rocket-propelled grenade, and land mines.
If his side lost, he remained a terrorist. If his side won, he
became a Freedom Fighter and a national hero.
Tourist camp
—In the Kruger National Park
tourists are accommodated in large Rest Camps (Skukuza, Satara,
Olifants etc.). These are enclosed with animal-proof electric
fencing, and tourists are only allowed out between dawn and
dusk.
Tourist hut
—Most of the accommodation is in
the form of thatched huts (“rondavels”) with air conditioning and
all the mod-cons
Veld
—Bush, wilderness
Zol
—Home-rolled equivalent of a cigarette,
usually consisting of pungent coarse tobacco, brown paper and
saliva
Table of Contents
Sam Jenkins lay in the darkness, breathing
the smell of wet earth and washed foliage. The downpour had ceased
as suddenly as it had started, but when the light breeze
occasionally stirred the water berry tree under which the tents
were pitched, a shower of drops was sent hammering into the canvas.
Far to the west the storm still flashed, sending the rumble of
thunder rolling over the wide expanse of wilderness. In the
distance a lion was airing his discontent with the wetness and the
mud.
The rainy season in the Eastern Transvaal
Lowveld was short and intense. With temperatures soaring into the
forties Celsius during summer, the coming of the rains played a
major role in the frail balance of life in the arid bush.
Sam could hear the drone of Aaron’s voice in
the darkness of the other tent, relating the encounter with the
reed bull earlier that afternoon.
Yesterday a black ranger, patrolling along
the Nwanetzi spruit by foot, got trampled by a rogue buffalo bull.
When a bull was evicted from the herd, it had to fend for itself,
which it did in one of two ways. Either the evicted bulls joined to
form a small bachelor herd, presenting a united front against the
onslaught of lions, or the bull remained solitary, staying in or
close to the densest vegetation it could find. Even a very hungry
pride of lions would think twice before tackling a lone buffalo in
an environment where there is no room to maneuver. Most of these
solitary bulls preferred the cover offered by riverine bush and
reeds. The loneliness did nothing to improve the temperament of
these reed bulls.
The helicopter of the National Parks Board
being occupied with an intensive culling program, Sam had decided
to even the score on his own. First light had found him and Aaron
Skosana, his chief ranger, with two more of his men picking up the
spoor at the scene of the near tragedy. Six hours later Aaron
warned that they were getting very close. The huge thunder clouds
rolling in from the direction of the warm Mozambique current to the
east spurred Sam on to settle the matter before the deluge
obliterated the fresh spoor in the sand. The bull was sticking to
the dense, reedy streambed, which made it clear to Sam that he was
up against an experienced reed bull, wise to the ways of ambush in
conditions that gave him the edge.
He checked the action of his .458 Steyr
Mannlicher for the umpteenth time, knowing full well that, once
again, his own life was most probably going to depend on its
reliability. His own ability, having spent nine years as ranger in
the Kruger National Park, was beyond reproach. He knew, however,
that this did not necessarily mean much with a buffalo in a dense
riverbed.
The going was getting steadily worse. The
sparse clearings were getting smaller and smaller as he approached
the sandy Nwanetzi spruit. A barely audible hiss at his right
shoulder told Sam that Aaron had spotted the buffalo. He froze in
his tracks and followed the direction of the pointing finger. At
first he could discern nothing in the dense riverine reeds. On
seeing the oxpecker he noticed the dark blotch that must be the
buffalo. The only thing he could be certain of was that the buffalo
was there – which way it was looking was anybody’s guess. It was a
stalemate position, with a wind that could change at any moment
with the approaching storm. Bearing in mind the awesome knockdown
power of the gun he was using, Sam decided to chance it. Zeroing in
on the dark shadow he let out his breath and slowly squeezed the
trigger. A millisecond after the thunderous roar of the big gun he
heard the echoing slap of the heavy bullet impacting. At the same
instant, with a bloodcurdling bellow, the buffalo was in full
charge. Reeds were whipped down in a storm of dust and breaking
branches – the buffalo was covering ground at a speed that belied
its bulk, head held high and eyes bulging. Sam knew from experience
that nothing in the world was going to stop it except a brain shot
– that meant a moving target measuring about two by four inches.
With a clump of reeds obstructing a clear shot, Sam stepped to the
left while working the bolt of his rifle in one smooth movement.
Ironically, it was a buffalo thorn bush in which his left leg got
entangled, and he went crashing down, cradling the gun. For what
felt like eternity he was disorientated with the dust and the fury
around him. He could hear Aaron’s .303 discharging behind and to
the right of him and, without having to look, he knew that the two
other rangers were by now heading in the direction of the nearest
big tree, under full sail. They were both fairly new men, and this
was the first time they were experiencing the sensation of having
something very big and very dangerous thundering towards them,
intent only on killing them.
