Amid the Caracal Chaos

It was mid afternoon on a beautiful winter day in South Africa. So far the only blood that has been spilled belonged to a trophy blesbok my dad shot earlier that day. My goal for that day’s outing was to bag Africa’s gray ghost, the great kudu, and hopefully a giant warthog.

As God would have it, our best-laid plans were laid to waste, when we received an urgent phone call.

Read more at NRA Insights.

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