Original subtitles

Who's got the sweetest disposition?

One can't guess who.

Who never, never starts an argument?

Who never shows a bit of temperament?

Who's never wrong but always right?

Who'd never dream of starting a fight? Who gets stuck with all the bad luck? No

one but Donald Duck.

Well, well, quite a spread, eh, Donald?

But your old grandpappy up there on the wall didn't have it so soft.

Oh, that old boy really had to work for his vittles. His very existence depended

on tracking down the great buffalo.

Aha! Meat on the table.

Boy, that sure was fun.

Yes, but that life's not for us, huh, Donald?

No, sir.

Not for me.

Hmm. Hunting season opens tomorrow.

Hunting season?

Yahoo!

awakens an irresistible urge to hunt wild game.

All

along the way

are times that we are approaching the happy hunting ground.

Local residents make last -minute preparations to welcome the sportsmen.

become impassable, the hunter must continue on foot.

These sportsmen are fully equipped, some with the latest scientific hunting

equipment, some with experienced guides.

Deep into the untamed forest, through the uncharted wilderness, the hunter's

natural instinct helps him blaze a trail.

The man is in the forest.

Let's dig out.

With camp set up, The hunter rests, for a big day lies ahead.

Two down front.

It is now H -hour, minus four.

The hunt will soon begin.

What are on the minds of the men in the trenches?

Are they thinking of the loved ones at home? Douse that light, you fool!

Minutes seem like hours, but the stage is set. There's no turning back now.

The time, H -hour, minus three.

Many months of preparation, and now it's all here.

Only a few seconds.

Moments. Time is eternal.

Nothing to do but wait. Wait.

Nine. Eight.

Seven. Six.

Five. Four. The suspense.

What is Mother doing?

Three. Two.

One.

Don't shoot till you see the whites of the rise, sonny!

Quietly, deftly, the hunter stalks the game.

Rugged terrain, the slightest noise, the snap of a twig could...

is a deer, Sonny. D -E -E -R.

Run for the hills. We're under fire.

Sonny, that was close.

Round of mustard on hill 45.

What a cute one.

Yes, what do I do now?

Sonny?

Dig out fast!

They're out of ammo on the east slope, sir.

Good, Jenkins.

It'll soon be over.

It's over, Chief.

All under control.

The hunt is over.

Drearily the men come marching home, proud, undaunted.

But not without casualties.

Not without suffering.

Hey, wait up! Wait for Pappy!

And not without game.

Meat on the table!