I was re-reading my post and realized I owed you guys my zebra story so here it is.
Day 1: My First hunt in Africa. This morning BP (my PH) and I were hunting a 2000 acer concession for Zebra and Kudu. After several minutes of coaching I got into a stalking rhythm just two passes behind BP, as I struggled with the thorns of the Bushveld BP started pointing out Zebra, Kudu and Blue Wildebeest. BP located a nice herd of zebra and the stalk was on, after an hour or so of being seen, heard or winded we finally got ahead of them with the wind in our face, BP located a gap in the brush and set up the sticks for a hasty ambush. Did I mention that I flew in on August 8th the day of Delta’s worldwide computer crash, my guns didn’t make the flight so I was using BP’s custom .270 with 150grn Norma Oryx ammunition, it’s an excellent rifle, one I’d be proud and happy to own. So I’m on the sticks and the zebra start to pass thru the opening, BP whispers in my ear wait for the stallion, I’ll tell you when to shoot. One zebra passes, then another and finally the stallion steps into the gap and stops, a perfect broad side shot at 80 yards. BP whispers “on the sergeant strips”, I take carful aim and squeeze the Timney trigger on BP’s .270, on impact the stallion’s left front leg stiffens up and he head off into the bush. BP then asked me if he could use this opportunity to train two of his younger tracking dogs, an 8 and 6 month old pair of coon hounds. I agree and BP send Monsu our tracker back to camp to get the dogs, 30 minutes pass before Monsu returns with the dogs and I’m confident we will walk up on a dead zebra in 200 yards or less. The spore is good and the dogs are on the track within 30 yards and BP lets them off the leash. The dogs head off into the bush with the occasional woof, about 5 minutes later we hear woof, woof, woof, we realize that my zebra is not dead and we have a pair of puppies playing tag with a wounded zebra. Now BP and I are running thru the bushveld trying to get to the dogs before the zebra stomps one or both of them to death. I’m 5’-9” tall, 52 years old and weigh a manly 260 pounds, running is not my strong suit. After a 1K dash we finally catch up to the dogs and the zebra. The .270 is a fine caliber and a proven killer but against a 700 pound Zebra jacked up on adrenalin being tormented by two dogs it’s a bit small. My heart is pounding out of my chest, the recital looks like it’s mounted on a pogo stick not a rifle and BP is yelling don’t shoot the dogs. I put 3 rounds into the zebra’s chest and he finally falls to the ground and breaths his last breath. I don’t know who was happier, BP because he dogs were unharmed or me because I could finally breath. During the set-up for the photo shoot we discovered why I was sprinting thru the bushveld, my first shot was low and I broke his left front leg just below the shoulder, not a great way to inspire confidence in your PH but it will be a hunt I’ll remember for the rest of my life.
After a great lunch and a nap BP and I headed back to the same concession for Kudu. As we are driving I point out what I think is a nice Kudu but BP says it’s just a youngster and BP watches him cross the road around the corner. Then BP spots a second bull following the first one, he taps on the hood of the truck and Monsu keeps driving down the road at a slow pass. BP and I step off the moving truck and he sets up the sticks in the middle of the road and has me get ready to shoot. He tells me Kudu act like well-behaved children they look both ways before crossing a road. Sure enough the bull stepped out to the edge of the road and looked both ways, when he looked at me I squeezed the trigger. On impact the bull shook and moved across the road sluggishly. Monsu went back for the dogs while BP and I looked for spore, we can’t find any!! The dogs arrive and we put them on the track and off they go, woof, woof. Monsu finds some blood on a tree at shoulder height and my heart sinks. The subconscious is a powerful thing, my first shot on my zebra was low so without thinking I compensated for that mistake and shot high. Fortunately Monsu saw the bull thru the bush and after a short run I put two more shots into his chest and put the Gray Ghost of Africa in the salt.
My first day was over and my PH must be thinking how close do I have to get this guy to the rest of his animals, to get him any closer I’ll have to tie the game to a tree. Thankfully my guns arrived that night and my shooting improved.
