Dru, 
Good show old boy! 
Sounds like a fine time was had by all, a tale such as this is always a pleasure to read. 
 I hope that a frosty cold one tasted never so sweet! 
  
I am reminded of hunting cape buffalo with only my guide.  
A tiny local chap, not a day over 80, who spoke not a word of the queen's english...  
We were following a wounded bull into the growing African dusk.  
The sun does not linger on the savanna, it falls quickly, and darkness is surely a death warrant, 
both for the buffalo as well as yours truely. 
Between the bull and the lions who were surely following us, my trusty .458 seemed like a child's toy. 
  
Oh! what have I done? 
  
My very life was in the hands of our lord, only my stiff upper lip and some luck will bring me home tonight. 
All because of a trophy....