LEOPARDS AND EAGLES

A news item today, New species of leopard discovered in Borneo, brought up a lot of thoughts and memories.  Like the times I've spent in Borneo, especially of climbing Mount Kinabalu.

The animal discovered is a new species of Cloudy Leopard, the rarest big game cat in the world.  So before any thoughts or memories came to mind, I looked up from my desk to the mantel above my office fireplace.  On it is a mounted cloudy leopard, perched on a branch, fangs bared, ready to pounce.  I shot it in South Viet Nam in 1961.  I was 17 years old.

I mentioned hunting tigers back then in Tigers and Treason (Sept. 2004) – but it was less about tigers than John Kerry's betrayal of his fellow soldiers and of the wonderful people with whom I hunted, the Montagnard tribesmen of South Viet Nam.  So I skipped any mention of leopards.  It was more important to talk about the Democrat presidential candidate's treason towards America and her friends.

I'll tell you about the leopard – but first let me tell you about another act of treason and what you can do about it.

This Saturday, March 17, at 12 noon, every traitorous hate-America moonbat Islamocommunist group in the US will assemble at the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington DC, to protest the War on Moslem Terrorism and spew hatred for their country.

The Eagles will be there to protect the Memorial.  Pro-Americans are coming from all 50 states to stand up to the moonbats.  You can be one of them.  If you live within driving distance of Washington and if there is any possible way you can join them, I could not encourage you more to do so.

All the information is at the Gathering of Eagles.  There's additional information at MoveAmericaForward. 

Now about that leopard.

My Vietnamese guide, Ngo Van Chi, and I had a jungle camp some ways away from Dalat in the central highlands.  We had set bait ( a killed water buffalo tied to a tree) at several places for this particular tiger that had eaten about 20 Montagnards.  Now we were waiting to see if the tiger had come to any of them.

This morning, a Montagnard showed up at our camp, saying he had walked through the night to get here.  He was from a remote village where a leopard was terrorizing the villagers.  Evidently the leopard had caught his foot in a rabbit trap and ripped it loose.  The wounded leopard, crazed with pain and hunger, was attacking people in the fields.

The Montagnards had no firearms, just spears and arrows.  Word had spread about the young American hunting in the area.  Would he come and please kill the leopard?

So Chi and I and the villager got in the jeep and off we went.  We followed a muddy dirt track for miles until it ran out, then walked on jungle trails for a lot more miles.  Finally we came to the village, typically composed of thatch huts on stilts.  It was a gloomy overcast day, and it began to drizzle.

We were led to a patch of jungle surrounded by cleared fields, a few hundred yards long by a hundred or so wide.  The leopard, they said, was in there.  All I had to do was go in there, find it and shoot it.  Swell.

A wounded leopard is no fun.  Especially in a dark jungle.  Especially when you're all by your lonesome, firepower-wise.  I chambered a round into my .300 Weatherby and stepped into the jungle patch, followed by Chi and the Montagnard.  Chi was carrying a side arm, the Montagnard a spear.  Since the thing was wounded, it would attack first.  Would I see it before it got to me, in time to aim and fire – accurately?

I thought I saw a leopard behind every branch and vine, up on every tree.  I crossed through the lower half of the patch seeing nothing, came out the other side and walked around the perimeter, thinking it might charge out at me as it had done to the villagers.  Nothing.  So in I went again, inside the upper half.

Even with the coolness of the day and the constant drizzle, I was now sweating pretty good.  To calm down, I had to focus on breathing steadily and paying close attention to every leaf and shadow.  What I was looking for was movement.

Something told me to stop.  I stood there frozen, just scanning with my eyes.  Then I saw something move.  A pair of large yellow eyes.  They blinked.  Once.

They were looking right at me, waiting for me to get just a few steps closer before their owner could leap upon me.  Slowly, slowly, I raised my rifle.  The eyes were only 20 feet away so I didn't have to aim so well.  I fired and the leopard instantly fell dead.

Standing over it, Chi exclaimed, "Oh, very rare!  Panther nebulous, a cloudy leopard.  I have never seen one before, only heard of them."  The Montagnard villagers were very happy, and insisted on partying, getting me ridiculously drunk on their homemade rice wine.  This took place in August, 1961.

Now I realize that getting drunk on March 17 is an honored and venerable tradition – for after all, it is St. Patrick's Day.  But before you consider doing so – once again, please consider being a part of the Gathering of Eagles this Saturday.

What better way to celebrate St. Patrick's Day in America than stand shoulder-to-shoulder with fellow patriots defending the Vietnam War Memorial from America-haters?

I'll see you there.  And Happy St. Patrick's Day!

[Note:  To put you in an Irish mood, consider re-reading TTP's "nutshell history" of Ireland, Beyond The Pale.  You could also check out the blog of an Irish TTP member, Tom Carew in Dublin.  It's Ne Pasaran – that's "No Surrender" in Gaelic.]