The centerpiece of a gourmet dinner at the Kordus house will be loin from a wild boar, one killed by Arthur B. Kordus himself.
There is, needless to say, a story behind that.
"It was shortly before dusk," recalls Kordus, of a time he was hunting at a private ranch in Texarkansas, Ark. "I was starting to pack up when I heard this huge grunting and groaning--'Hew, Hew,' it sounded like--of a beast coming down the path at me. In the gathering darkness, all I saw were fangs and monstrous teeth. Man, it was hideous. I literally said a prayer to calm myself. Then I stepped back and took aim."
However frightening the circumstances, though, this was an expert rifleman taking aim. In his Army marksman test, Kordus knocked down 38 of 40 targets, including all four shots at the maximum range of 400 meters.
"The only two I missed were when I had a jam," he says, modestly noting that if he hadn't swiftly recovered from the jam he might well have failed the entire test.
Kordus hit the wild boar twice with shots from his high-powered rifle, but when he started walking toward the boar, the animal was mustering its strength for a final rush at him. It took one more shot to finish off the beast, who later weighed in at 280 pounds.
Today, the mounted head of Amadeus Mozart Kordus, fangs and all, hangs on a wall in the downstairs playroom of the Kordus house.
"The kids"--Alexander Johnathan, 4, and Madeline Grace, 2--"look upon him as their protector," Arthur says with a mixture of wry humor and pride.
Kordus' desire to hunt wild boar was fed by various kinds of hunting he did growing up on a farm in rural Wisconsin, but it sprang to life when he and his father were watching a University of Arkansas football game on television, and at halftime the team's ferocious razorback wild-boar mascot was brought out in a steel cage.
Arthur, who was then in high school, now says, "I found this intriguing and told my dad that some day I would go to Arkansas to hunt one of these. He laughed at the time, but now I think he's pleased with my accomplishment."
In a relaxed after-dinner conversation, Kordus ruminates on how hunting wild boar is very much akin to risk management.
"It is all about being associated with the risks of each attempt when facing a wild boar," he explains. "Knowing the weather, routes out of low-lying areas, knowing how to react in an unexpected encounter, and most importantly, in the implementation step, the shot of the quarry must be placed in the correct spot in the neck just behind the ear.
"Inappropriate implementation," Kordus notes, "creates a real problem situation. There is nothing more imposing than a wounded, disturbed, 200-pound-plus wild boar thrashing, gnarling and displaying ivory white teeth and tusks literally feet away."
"The worst that can happen in risk management is to get blindsided by a catastrophic loss, rogue consultant or a risk untreated that forces senior management to have to explain an unexpected hit to earnings," says Kordus. "Getting blindsided in corporate risk management or hunting wild boar results in the same worst-case scenario: a slow and painful demise."
September 15, 2006
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