He steps to the left, then to the right,
making sure the sounds he makes
are much less than a sigh.
Looking for something that runs amuck,
to carry home in his big black truck.

His eyes scurry from here to there,
as he silently creeps and crawls,
hoping to catch something unawares.
To his ears come voices in jungle form
"Aha!" he says to himself, "A big grey horn!"

He readies his gun, steady and sure,
"I'll get that sucka, he'll never endure!"
Eye on target, finger ready and poised,
when just above him...
... an owl gives a hoot.

Startled and shook, but not for long,
he continued on his dangerous throng.
With it feeling so right, how can it e'r go wrong?
"Mighty men will never bow
I'll get to ya, someway, somehow".

Eyeing another in the midst of those words,
"Wow! The motherload! A humongoid herd!"
This will be a piece of cake, when then again,
another sound gives way through rustling leaves,
singing the song of "Bringing in the sheaves"!

All is eerily peaceful now,
as a pair of yellow eyes pierce the scene.
This time not so wary, silence no longer a need.
Bones a crunchin', Lioness a munchin',
"Here, my little ones, a human delicacy!"