Open Writing

I remember once when we had a strandwolf that was always lurking around the kitchen and trying to get into the coolroom where all the meat was kept. As we had discovered, they had strong jaws and could chew their way through wire and timber rather easily. So we had caught the strandwolf in our cage but what to do with it?

We decided to have some fun. That Saturday we took the cage and put it in the small rectangular courtyard area that was in the middle of the single quarters. We released the strandwolf and watched it sniff around. The courtyard had a single entrance with a strong door and there was no way it could escape.

The following day being Sunday, most of the guys would have breakfast and then relax around the pool for an hour or two. Even if the wind was a bit strong the fence around the pool protected us and we could sit in the warm sun and sit talking about nothing.

“I wonder how that banana tree is going that you planted.’ I asked Skurwe Piet, winking at the others.

“It should be doing well now,” Piet replied.

“Have you been watering it?” Ben Stompgat asked.

Piet looked at him blankly. “Water?”

“Yes. Water,” John F_ said.

“F---. I forgot that,” Skurwe Piet said.

“You had better go and check then.”

Piet didn’t have a clue that we were setting him up. He got up and walked from the pool around the quarters to go to the courtyard area. We all rushed to my room, which was on the upper level and overlooked the courtyard thus giving a good view. Piet was just opening the door and moving towards the banana tree that was in the furthest corner.

We looked but couldn’t see the strandwolf. Where the hell was it? There was a tap nearby with a short piece of hose and Piet was bending to pick up the hose when suddenly there was a hairy brown blur as the strandwolf shot for the door and freedom.

To put it bluntly, Piet almost crapped himself. The strandwolf was intent on freedom and didn’t care too much about Piet.

Luckily Piet was not between it and the door, otherwise who
knows what might have happened. Piet went white and just stood there not knowing what to do.

We were rolling around with laughter, and the next thing we knew Piet was in my room, angry as hell.

“You f---ing bastards. It’s not f---ing funny. That f---ing thing could have eaten me alive.”

He carried on swearing and abusing us, threatening all kinds of revenge.

“F---, you should have seen your face,” Ben Stompgat said.

“Listen, short arse, I’ll f---ing get you. All of you. You just f---ing wait.”

We walked back to the pool area, Piet muttering and cursing under his breath.

I wiped the tears from my eyes. It was at times such as these the one needed a camera. Piet eventually calmed down and saw the funny side of it, but never went into the courtyard without having a good look. He knew he would have done the same to one of us if he could.

Unfortunately the strandwolf didn’t get the message and kept coming back again. We reckon it was the one that confronted Brian on the bridge, but then it would have to have been pretty desperate to have wanted to eat him. In the end I was asked to shoot the beast, but did so rather reluctantly as this was his territory, not ours.

*

Another time there was a strandwolf that was hanging around the kitchen area trying to get at the meat in the coolroom. So one night I got out the torch from the bakkie, which was pretty powerful, and after scanning the slopes opposite the single quarters picked up the eyes of a strandwolf about 60 to 70 meters away. The eyes of the strandwolf were a distinctive red colour and easy to pick out.

I got R_ to hold the torch while I ran to my room to get my rifle. I chambered around, aimed between the eyes and pulled the trigger. The eyes disappeared.

“Got it.”

“What?”

“I got it. Right between the eyes.”

“F--- off.”

By then some other guys were coming out to see what I was shooting at.

“I’m telling you. I got it. Right between the eyes.”

“Bull f---ing s---.”

“What’s happening nek?” asked Hans V_.

“I just shot that strandwolf that was hanging around.”

“Crap. The f------ thing was on the other side of the valley. He could barely see the f------ eyes,” R_ said.

“OK, what do you want to bet that says I shot it right between the eyes?”

R_ looked at me in disgust.

“I’m not even going to waste my time bothering to make a bet with you. You have no f---ing chance of winning.”

“Ok, then. Let’s go and have a look,” I said.

It was strange but I was certain that I hadn’t missed and had in fact hit the strandwolf where I thought I had. Right between the eyes. It was one of those feelings you get sometimes.

So we all walk up to the other side of the riverbed and start climbing the hill looking for the strandwolf. We don’t see anything and I’m starting to get worried.

“See. I told you that you couldn’t hit the side of a hill with that rifle,” R_ said gloatingly.

“I’m sure it was about here,” I mumbled, looking back across to the lights of the single quarters, trying to orientate myself.

“Perhaps it was a bit further that way,” I said hopefully, heading a bit further to the right.

About 10 paces further on and sure enough there lay our strandwolf, dead as a doornail.

We all gathered around it.

“F---. Talk about luck,” R_ said.

We checked where the strandwolf had been hit. Right between the eyes about as plumb centre as you could get.

“I don’t f------ believe it,” R_ said shaking his head in disbelief.

“That is one unlucky strandwolf.”

“Unlucky? Bulls---. I told you where I was aiming.”

With the lucky shot that took out the crow a few months earlier, I was getting a reputation of either being a crack shot or one very lucky arse.