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The big game hunter walked into the bar and bragged to everyone

about his skills as a hunter. The man was undoubtedly a good shot and no

one could dispute that. But then he said that they could blindfold him

and

he would recognise any animal's skin from its feel, and if he could

locate

the bullethole he would even tell them what calibre rifle was used to

shoot it. This was a bit too much for the other

customers, and soon a heated argument was going on. Then the hunter

said that he was willing to prove it if they would put up the drinks, and

the bet was on. They blindfolded him carefully and took him to his first

animal skin. After feeling it for a few moments, he announced.

"Springbok". Then he felt for the bullet hole and declared. "And shot

with

a .22 rifle". The others could not believe it (he was right of course)

and

the argument was even hotter than before. When some started to suggest

that he must have peeped, he said that he was prepared to do it again. He

would put up all the drinks they had bought before against them buying

another round for him. So they blindfolded him again, very thoroughly

this

time, and they brought a skin that someone happened to have in the boot

of

his

car. He took a bit longer this time and then said. "Kalahari Lion"

and fingering the bullet hole, said "and the rifle was a .308" and he was

right again. This of course was like throwing fat on the fire, and he had

to prove his skills, over and over again, everytime against a round of

drinks. Finally he staggered home, stoned out of his mind, and went to

sleep. The next morning he got up and saw in

the mirror that he had one hell of a shiner. So he said to his wife.

'Listen I know I was drunk last night, but not too drunk to know that I

did not fight anyone in that bar. So where did I get this black eye?" .

And his wife replied angrily. "From me, of course." "But what did I do?"

he asked. She replied "You got into bed and put

your hand down inside my panties. Then you fiddled around a bit and

announced in a loud triumphant tone: "Skunk, killed with an axe".