Unslung heroes: how grandpa stories are made (#26)

Yesterday, I failed to produce a sling video. I did nothing with a sling in fact.
Yesterday, I chased waterbuck and herded giraffes.
I feel like this might be some sort of equivalent on the scale of masculinity. I am rather proud of my accomplishment and will probably get back to the sling video at a later date. Here is the tale:
It started very innocently; drinking British tea and eating sweet bread on the veranda of a lodge. Somehow the same electric thought came into the minds of all three daring young men at the table. Acting promptly, we dashed across the lawn towards the bushes and a small herd of waterbuck grazing there. Our mission: slap one of them on the rump. Along the way one of my flip-flops flew far from my foot (poor shoe choice for running down game, I might add here), so for a short time I was chasing them barefooted. An acacia thorn quickly reminded me to find my shoe. We were valiant (I thought), but in the end slapped no waterbuck rumps. It’s ok, even cheetahs only catch 20% of what they chase. (Statistic may have been tampered with to comfort my ego)
So when I caught my breath, there I was looking out over Lake Naivasha. I and my stalwart companions were peacefully contemplating life. We had followed a foot trail we uncovered in The Great Waterbuck Chase out to the waters edge and were now keeping an eye out for rogue hippos that might be cruising our side of the lake. We decided in that moment of drizzling tranquility (it was drizzling, by the way), that the best way to make our way back towards the “others” was through the underbrush along the trail. We had spotted several giraffe grazing treetops peacefully on our way in, and we thought everyone would love to see them up close.
So off we set in an intrepid attempt to circle behind the giraffes so they would walk out into the open for everyone to enjoy. It worked like a charm… well except we spooked the giraffes and they ran across the grass rather than docilely ambling. But, I have to admit there are few things in nature more beautiful than a running giraffe. It is an elegant sight to behold.

(note: the first 17 sec are the only running bits)

Upon emerging victoriously from the brambles, tangles, and stinging nettles – we were met and chastised by a security guard for chasing animals (as was only right, really). So our triumphant spirits were slightly dampened. But I console myself with the fact that I will be able to say to my grandchildren one day, “Did I ever tell you about the time I chased waterbuck on barefoot? Or the time I herded wild giraffes?” (queue wee ones, “yes, grandpa”) Then I will launch into a glorious, and ever more exciting retelling of this incident.

So this is how grandpa stories are made.

In Africa.
In the snow.


2 Responses to Unslung heroes: how grandpa stories are made (#26)

  1. Kavita says:

    Joel, i love your blog…
    and when you’re a grandpa you can tell them how you played volleyball against some pooper scoopers

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