Decked out in his fanciest uniform, bloated Hermann Göring was a crashing symphony in green, armed with a spear. Playing Germany's clown prince of the hunt, Reichsjägermeister Göring used to lay down his obsolete weapon, take up a rifle and waddle to a platform erected in the forest. There, he would wait for his beaters to maneuver deer within near-pointblank range. Out among the trees, deep-throated horns would toot calls signaling each stage of the hunt (the sighting of a stag, the shot, the finding of the carcass). Because he sometimes killed half a dozen stags at a single sitting, trigger-happy...
Sport: Afternoon of a Roebuck
Subscriber content preview.
or
Log-In
To continue reading:
or
Log-In