RANDOM REMINDER

Press, Volume CVI, Issue 31075, 2 June 1966, Page 24

RANDOM REMINDER

WHO’S SHOUT?

The stag roaring contest staged by the deerstalkers down south a bit as a preliminary to the season of the year when the red deer stags roar themselves silly in their eagerness to battle other stags for possession of the hinds—the clueless things—was a pronounced success and it has had its repercussions, or reverberations. The competition sent the members of the deerstalkers association off in a state of considerable enthusiasm and one of them shot straight off into the bush to roar himself

a trophy head, something to put on the wall alongside the picture of his mother-in-law. He found himself a nice secluded valley, a lovely lot of bush, but before he could get going with the Carusolike call he heard a rather feeble but extraordinarily prolonged roar. A lesser man might have thought it had come from a battered old stag weary from a season of fighting its rivals. But he was wise in the ways of the animal world, and knew this cry came from no Monarch of the Glen.

He answered the call, with mischief in his heart. Back came the cheap imitation. The man found himself a nice, ample beech tree, installed himself behind it, and continued to roar encouragingly, while his opponents drew closer, making their strangled cries. They were within 10 yards of the tree, the two shooters, when our hero announced himself in a few words—just enough to let them know they had been duped. But there was no mistaking the roars of rage—genuine quality, with colour to match.