Stag Doo
By: Big Al Lester
Location: NF 799 LES
Genre: Hunting the stags!
The bush, new Zealand, hunting for your own kai ( food) the hunt, and those yarns.....
Stag Doo by Al Lester, the master of the hunting genre, is full of rip-roaring yarns for those with a good keen sense of humour and a love for New Zealand's wild outdoors.
, 'Big Al' Lester is the modern-day master of the hunting genre. His books are for those with a good keen sense of humour and a love for New Zealand's wild outdoors.
'Many times I have sat by a campfire with its coarse smoke etching into my eyes and tears streaming down my face. The tears not caused by the smoke, though, but by laughing so hard at the oddball, strange, hilarious or simply outright bizarre yarns told by my hunting mates.
It never ceases to amaze me how readily my hunting colleagues and others dob in their mates to disclose their mishaps, balls-ups, cunning plans and frequent disasters. Each story is told with great relish, and often, I suspect, with liberal helpings of embellishment. For every story recounted, the often embarrassed subject gets a right of reply, and in turn dobs in his cobber with an equally or more embarrassing yarn, and so it goes. As the evenings pass and the tide-line in the whisky bottle drops, the yarns get increasingly more hilarious. This book contains a number of yarns gleaned from these fireside sessions, and a few from other interesting characters I have had the good fortune to encounter.'
Location: NF 799 LESGenre: Hunting the stags!
'Barry Crump meets Fred Dagg'
The bush, new Zealand, hunting for your own kai ( food) the hunt, and those yarns.....
Stag Doo by Al Lester, the master of the hunting genre, is full of rip-roaring yarns for those with a good keen sense of humour and a love for New Zealand's wild outdoors.
, 'Big Al' Lester is the modern-day master of the hunting genre. His books are for those with a good keen sense of humour and a love for New Zealand's wild outdoors.
'Many times I have sat by a campfire with its coarse smoke etching into my eyes and tears streaming down my face. The tears not caused by the smoke, though, but by laughing so hard at the oddball, strange, hilarious or simply outright bizarre yarns told by my hunting mates.
It never ceases to amaze me how readily my hunting colleagues and others dob in their mates to disclose their mishaps, balls-ups, cunning plans and frequent disasters. Each story is told with great relish, and often, I suspect, with liberal helpings of embellishment. For every story recounted, the often embarrassed subject gets a right of reply, and in turn dobs in his cobber with an equally or more embarrassing yarn, and so it goes. As the evenings pass and the tide-line in the whisky bottle drops, the yarns get increasingly more hilarious. This book contains a number of yarns gleaned from these fireside sessions, and a few from other interesting characters I have had the good fortune to encounter.'
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