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Richard Powell is one of those individuals who is determined to have as many different experiences as possible as he goes through life. He is a hunter and has spent most of his entire adult life broke . having spent his gold on airfares and hunting licenses and guide fees on four continents. Along the way he has met incredibly interesting men and women . experienced African nights . was attacked by an enraged water buffalo in South America, been offered a thousand dollars to shoot poachers in the Chete area of the remote Zambezi Valley, and been really wet and bug bitten during the rainy season near the Matto Grosso. His latest book deals with various sagas including a hunt for water buffalo in Aboriginal country in Northern Australia where an aborigine lady named Maura called him Cartoon Richard . On this hunt the camp cook did her best to starve the paying clients which led to a hissy fit by the New Zealand dude in camp. Being a big man it was a big hissy fit. Off to Africa, a funky little Suzuki named Baby Red with 800,000 km carried Richard and his wife Margaret around safely as they did their best to hunt kudu and gemsbok and warthog and leopard. In Old Montana a hunt for tundra swans with a fine gentleman from Billings led to a morning where one rejoices to be alive . as an ancient man with many ailments refused to . 'go gently into that good night' . He was a hunter-not some old man waiting to die somewhere in an institution. And the major theme of all these adventures is laughter. Maybe different mountains and skies and accents-but always . laughter as things go awry .