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Last Day Zebraby Enrique del Rosario It was the last day for hunting before I would have to head back to the States and I hadn't even begun to seriously hunt for zebra. I was in good company and didn't feel particularly anxious about getting an opportunity at a good stallion. We had seen zebra in good number, sometimes mingling with the abundant wildebeest. What I was looking for was a mature bachelor stallion. I had thought at one time that I would prefer a Hartmann's Zebra but after seeing the healthy specimen of Burchells in the area that I was at I decided not to make a trip to the Khomas Hochland area where Hartmann's occur in natural and greater number. Often, in the days previous, while accompanying my friend while he hunted for kudu and oryx, we would come across small harems lorded over by a dominant stallion, and with trailing foals. We would not hunt these because the killing of the dominant and protective stallion would leave the foals defenseless. Zebra males who would take the place of the fallen stud would kill the foals in their bid to consolidate their control of the harem. As with the hunting of other species, the taking of a particular animal must be weighed against the effects the demise of that animal will have in the overall scheme of survival of the remaining herd. The one we spotted that morning was running in pair with another stallion, strong-looking with definitive markings. We were perched on the top railings of the lorry when we came upon the pair but they winded us and immediately took off into the high thornveld. One observer in our hunting party was an incessant smoker and more than once had been the cause of forewarning animals by his blue cloud of cigarette smoke and rasping cough. Leaving the smoker at the lorry, two trackers, the PH, the landowner's son, and I began our tracking. We plotted our stalk, using the crosswind and the trackers' knowledge of zebra behavior to get within shooting range of the zebra. In the rain-thickened bush we would sometimes get within 40 or 50 yards, not seeing each other but hearing their snorting as they sensed our presence, and then their pounding hooves as they fled. The hoped-for short stalk turned into a perspiring 30-minute, then hour-long, hunt.  The trackers sensed them first, then the PH, Armin saw their slight movement in the green entanglement. The zebras were about 60 yards away but the high brush did not reveal enough of their bodies to give me clear visibility of the lower third of the target body. In hushed tones, Armin and Marco, the landowner's 18-year old son, discussed which stallion would be my zebra to take and how best to get to a killing position. Armin crawled back to me and whispered his assessment of the situation and to confirm that I had a round chambered and on safe in my CZ550 .375 H&H rifle. Marco, in the meantime, had taken off his sandals and stalked barefooted about 20 yards to a place where he could clearly see the killing spot on the target zebra. Marco motioning for us to follow, Armin bringing up the sticks, me crawling behind. Placing my rifle on the sticks, adjusting for height, I held the crosshairs on a spot a third up from the bottom of the zebra's chest and behind the front shoulder. I looked at Armin and he nodded, indicating that I can proceed whenever I felt I had a killing shot. A 285-grain Speer Grand Slam Premium bullet fired from 40 yards brought the stallion down. It ran dead for about 90 yards into a clearing where it finally collapsed. Upon inspection of its teeth, the trackers determined the zebra to be six years old and in its prime.  Back to HOME PAGE Email: info@etemba-hunting.com |
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