I could have shot one more easily. One on the flats…. close to camp. One that could have been loaded on the ‘bakkie’ and retrieved without effort. However, effort is a spice that enhances hunting for me. That and the uncertainty of a difficult stalk.
The air was crisp but the brisk pace set by my PH Ryan soon had the lungs burning and residual lethargy squeezed from the leg muscles. We were scrambling for altitude before the sun brought a dozy feel to the day and soon found ourselves fighting loose shale as we sidled into an impressive bluff system.
Ahead, a pack of dogs yipped and barked intermittently—except they weren’t dogs. Zebra. A herd of eight. We’d seen more from below, but some had scattered into the bluffs above us. We scrambled closer to the yips and barks, our chief camouflage the rising sun at our backs. And then they materialised; stark against the rough mountainside with their iconic black & white livery reflecting the sun.
The most commonly asked questions I get, when non-hunters realise I hunt Africa, is: “Oh, how can you shoot those poor zebra (the old cute horses in pyjamas syndrome)? The follow up question invariably is: “You couldn’t bring me back a zebra skin, could you?” I’m not making this up.
A zebra skin certainly is the ubiquitous African souvenir—albeit it’s bloody expensive—much like woollen sheep skins used to be the craze for tourists here. In South Africa zebra are prolific—pests in some areas—so populations need to be controlled. Hunting plays a small roll in managing numbers, as does hunting for local meat, but culling is still a major part of animal management there. Consequently, I do have access to affordable zebra skins and will be bringing a shipment in later in the year. If genuinely interested in purchasing one, email darylcrimp@ gmail.com
Back to the hunt.
Ryan muttered, “We can’t get any closer without exposing ourselves!” Then busied himself setting up ‘The Sticks’—a fold out shooting platform. At 300m, it was a long shot for me—I normally like to see the whites of their eyes… and then stalk closer—but my customised Sako .300 WinMag was made for this. A real tack-driver with enough ‘clobber’ for big African animals, I’d fitted it with a handcrafted walnut stock and good optics:Swarovski Z6i 2.5—15×44 ballistic scope. Any misses—driver error!
The boom of the unsuppressed canon scared Ryan ‘witless’, as he was unprepared for my quick shot. I’ve never been one to ‘worry the shot’ and the moment the cross is on target, I push the ‘loud button’.
The stallion lurched forward and broke into a death run well before the echo of the ‘Thwump’ returned to us. The Sako and the ‘Swaro were right on the money. Heart shot. Right where I’d placed the cross hairs. Death was swift and clean.
Now for the real effort. No bakkie was going to scale these mountains so, after a confab with Ryan, Tracker Jimmy was chittering into the radio as he melted into the steep bush. An hour later, he returned with a ragamuffin assortment of helpers from a neighbouring village and a huge canvas sling.
I could see I was going to have to tip big before the sun set on this particular hunt.
