Having just returned, I have a very fresh memory, that I'm sure will be hard to top.

The heat, the amount of walking, and the tstese flies and mopane flies had been much more than I expected, and I was wondering if I'd made a mistake about this buffalo hunting business.

A short time later, we found the herd we had been stalking, and I forgot about any discomfort other than the sound of my heart beating in my ears.

After several blown stalks and staring matches with buffalo, we found my bull and I dropped him with a single shot from my .458

After much back slapping, picture taking and such, we bagan the process of retrieving the vehicle, cutting up the buff, and loading him in the truck. By now, it was probably 105-110F, I was soaked in sweat and streaked in blood, and about as tired as i can remember (we started every day at 3:00am to sit on a blind).

As we got ready to pull out and head back to camp, and the skinning shed, my PH, Mike Payne asked if I wanted a drink from the cooler.

I replied, "You wouldn't have an ice cold beer in that box would you?"

At that, he smiled and pulled out two frosty cold Bollinger beers, which tasted so good, the hair on my neck stood up. I can tell you, that toastinmg to my first buffalo, and EARNING that cold beer was just unforgettable!