We exchanged stories around the fire while they enjoyed some drinks. They each filed away in turn to go take showers before dinner. Once they were done, they came back to the fire and each had another drink before dinner. Dinner was fantastic as usual.

Silvia, our head chef at La Loma, always does an astounding job. About this time, I realized Derek was feeling pretty good. They headed back to the fire and another round of drinks was downed in the act of socializing. At this time Greg and his son Chad had arrived. I ushered them into the dining room and they began eating. We chatted for a while exchanging stories. 

Outside, unbeknownst to me, Frank had suggested that Derek should climb the 100 foot Sepia tree on the property, the prize being a thousand dollars if he made it to the top. This tree has been on estancia grounds for the better part of a century and no one has climbed it. Derek, never backing down from a bet, began his climb. To say Derek was ‘feeling alright’ wouldn’t be doing the phrase justice. To be clear, Derek is a 53 year old pharmacist who does not have an athletic physique. Did that stop, concern, or worry Derek in the slightest? Nope. He scaled halfway up the tree as fast as any chimp ever dared to climb. The speed and voracity to which he attacked the limbs he used as steps was almost inhuman. I heard the gentlemen roaring with laughter. I can only imagine how hilarious it actually was. Derek made it halfway up when the other gentlemen started to call him down. He was already far above the top of the lodge at this point. He meandered down and by the time it was all through, everyone had had a good laugh. Derek had forever endeared himself to us as “el mono blanco” (the white monkey).

The shenanigans were far from done. The next morning Brian E. heard Frank get up to go to the bathroom. He snuck silently into Frank’s room and waited in the dark, like a predator waits for prey. Frank washing his hands signaled to Brian that the moment of terrifying surprise was about to commence. Frank, still half asleep, walked back to his bed expecting nothing. Pouncing from the darkness, Brian scared Frank to death. An unearthly howl emitted from Frank the likes of which I’ve never heard, waking me from my slumber two rooms down. I’d say the reaction which occurred seemed to delight Brian to no end. It was certainly quite funny to hear it recounted over breakfast. Our van arrived shortly after breakfast. We all clambered inside waiting for Derek to finish climbing all the trees in the courtyard. He was surprisingly fast. 

After about a 40 minute drive we arrived at the field. The guides were waiting and quickly led their hunters to each individually placed blind. The weather was quite agreeable. There was a slight misting of rain that was rather refreshing. The birds were flying steady. I went to visit Chad and Greg first. I walked up to Chad and we exchanged a few words. I stood there for a couple minutes. Chad was knocking dove out of the sky left and right. More than once he dropped a bird that his dad was going to shoot. Always great to see a little friendly competition!  I know for a fact that Greg enjoyed the hunting. I also know for a fact that the hunting paled in comparison to the joy he felt spending time with his son. They both shared laughter, respect, and contentment in a variety of unforgettable moments throughout their trip. I then walked back to camp and jumped in Martin’s (the head guide) truck. We drove up to where Frank and Brian E. were shooting.  The blinds were set up in optimal flight paths. Frank was a great shot. Ol’ lanky Franky was taking high shots, long shots, whiskey shots, and consistently hitting them. I’d say he was shooting about 65 percent. Across the field in a feed lot, Brian E. was slaying em as well. Content with what I saw, I started walking towards the other blinds where ‘mono blanco’ and Brian H. were shooting. It turns out Derek’s skills in climbing trees didn’t transfer over to shooting. He was hitting one in every three shots. Not bad, for a silverback. I turned my attention to Brian Herndon’s blind. Brian H. was probably the best shot in the group. He was meticulously killing birds in the 25 – 35 yard range.  He was extremely patient, focusing on his follow through and a slow trigger pull. He knew the bird was going down before he pulled the trigger. Beautiful shooting.  

Shortly thereafter it was time for lunch. The gentlemen jumped in the van and headed back to camp. I was busy with Frederico at this point preparing lunch and tending to the fire. The gentlemen milled around the camp having a beer before lunch. Lunch was just about ready so everyone got themselves situated around the table we set up prior to their arrival. For lunch we had traditional Argentinean barbeque known as “asado”. A light salad composed of avocado, onion, tomato, and lettuce was our first course. It was doused with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, giving it a sweet tang. Juicy sausage was served next. Then came the pork flank. Seasoned with salt, pepper, and lime juice; it was the perfect consistency of fat and muscle. It is akin to eating a large succulent piece of bacon. The main entrée was tenderloin. Slow cooked to perfection with a moist pink center and a charred exterior. The two textures playing off each other exceptionally. Lastly, chicken thigh and breast seasoned with lime juice, salt, and pepper. For dessert we had a layered chocolate pudding. The first layer was chocolate sauce followed by chocolate pudding. The second layer was a graham cracker crumble over a crème custard. Lastly, chocolate pudding again. Compliments to the chef, Frederico! During lunch, everyone took their turn exchanging funny stories. These hilarious little marvels will remain unspoken but they were excellent to say the least! 

After lunch the guides took off to prepare the afternoon hunting locations. We waited in camp for them to return. At one point Frank, the ‘beast master’, telepathically communicated to the giant blonde Labradors which roamed the farm. Loyal to their master’s wishes, a vigorous humping party commenced. Amused by the spectacle, Frank grinned. He had a glaze to his eyes which suggested he was once again telepathically communicating with the dogs. He never informed us what he exactly said to them, but both of the dogs took off in a dead sprint. Martin returned with the van shortly thereafter and it was time for the afternoon hunt.