Let's resume our discussion of the ancient art of hunting. There are two main skills required: 1) sneaking, and 2) killing. Over the years, I've been assiduously practising the sneaking part, and am now a master. Sometimes I'll sneak right into the centre of a herd of deer and stand there a few hours, listening to their conversation. And then, whammo, I'll break wind and they'll scatter. It's fun. It's actually more fun than shooting them. And harder! In fact, FartSafari, as I've taken to calling it, takes a lot more skill than real hunting.

You must become one with the animal you are hunting. You must have eaten a good quantity of beans before setting out - but not too much. Many a hunt has been ruined by what is known in the FartSafari world as "premature farting", aka Toot-Too-Soon. Success has to do with slowness of movement. To insinuate oneself into a herd of deer may take as long as 10 hours. A step at a time, you move in. The beans are doing their work. But patience! The deer are still several hundred yards away, and won't be able to hear you. Sometimes the herd relocates, which is a drag. You, full of beans, acutely uncomfortable, have to go shuffling after them. But if FartSafari were easy, everyone would be doing it.

Not all animals are equally satisfying to hunt via FartSafari. Sometimes I'll sneak into a herd of cows and, after several silent hours, break wind, but frequently the cows themselves have been farting for hours, and barely notice my contribution, and just stand there chewing their cud, or the edge of my coat. It is also not fun to go on FartSafari after tortoise. You could walk among these characters with a marching band and they wouldn't notice. Actually, I did this: I took the marching band from our kid's school on a tortoise FartSafari. They played The Stars And Stripes Forever, then "fired", all 60 kids at once and... nothing. They were so disappointed. Plus I was out, like, $500 in beans.

I recently discovered a subtle variation of FartSafari, in which the hunter, rather than breaking wind, slowly extends his hand, then gently strokes the animal while speaking in a soothing voice. I call this The Gentle Kill. "Kill" is, of course, euphemistic. The animal does not die. Sometimes it may even lean into you a little bit, like in gratitude. It may, if a dog, do that "dog smile", then lick your hand. Especially if you use a slow massaging movement where the muscles are especially tight. Last week I performed The Gentle Kill on several neighbourhood dogs, and now about nine of them are out in the front yard, howling, waiting for me to come out.

So excuse me. The hunt is on.