Bring Back His Stride: A Tracker’s Second Chance

This is a post for the ages. The second photo was taken in 2010 — my tracker/skinner, Zwy, and I. The first? Fifteen years later. A lot has changed over the years, but one thing hasn’t: we still make one hell of a team.

Zwy and I grew up together on the same farm. When my family moved away, his family stayed. Years later, when I became a professional hunter, Zwy found me again. We picked up where we left off, forming a formidable team in the bush. The man has eyes like an eagle and could skin with surgical precision. He was born for the bush.

But in this industry, when work is scarce, tough choices have to be made. I couldn’t get enough hunts to keep us both going, and Zwy moved on to a bigger outfitter. It was a sad day — we were more than just colleagues, we were brothers in the field. Still, we'd bump into each other and share a laugh, always promising that one day we'd hunt together again.

Then life took a cruel turn. Zwy fell seriously ill. The company he worked for dropped him at home and told him to come back when he recovered. But he never fully did — in...