It’s hard to believe, but my Zimbabwean friend, Stephan, regularly had farmers with problem animals come in to the hunting store where he worked. They would BEG him to come out and shoot African plains game because as they were wreaking havoc on their crops! Normally, he would go out and hunt Saturday and Sunday during the day. But this time, a small herd of kudu had moved in and were only feeding during the night, when they could not be seen.
During the day, they would hole up in heavy brush and sleep. So the farmer pleaded with Stephan to come out at night to harvest a few, and hopefully at least, break them of their destructive ways… or at the least, scare them off the land. On this farm, the kudus were in the cotton and destroying much of the crop each night. Knowing he needed another shooter to help with the challenges of night hunting, he kindly asked if I’d like to come along. You bet I would!
Chapter 1: Night Shooting
I know that in the US, night shooting is often used for wild hog control, as well as during predator calling for coyotes and foxes. This is more accurately called shooting, not hunting. For the kudus destroying the farmer’s cotton, it would be no different. Using a spotlight, we’d be trying to catch them in the act, and take a few if we can. Right from the start, Stephan let me know that any kudu caught in the act at night, by a spotlight, was not going to stand there “frozen in the light.” Instead, they’d know right away that they’ve been had, and would take off so fast it would be hard to even get off a shot.
The only way to have a chance required three people: A vehicle driver, a spotlighter standing up in the bed of his Toyota pickup, and a shooter, also in the bed of the truck. Two people can’t do this successfully with three separate tasks to be performed; it just won’t work with less than three. One more shooter would be nice, with the spotlighter positioned in the middle, but only one can actually work out pretty well.
I’d be bringing my .375 H&H, shooting the 270 grain Barnes X-Bullets I’d handloaded to 2,650 fps. So far in Zimbabwe, everything has either dropped to the shot, or fallen very quickly...
after taking one of these in the boiler room. My friend was taking along his trusty .300 Win Mag, also loaded with X-Bullets. Though he’d be doing the driving, it was kept ready to go in the cab, just in case.
Mostead, his groundskeeper, also came along and would be the spotlight man. Both he and I would be standing up in the back of the pickup, holding on to the roll bar just behind the cab. We left Harare right around 6 p.m., and only had about an hour's drive to the farm with the problem kudus. I only briefly worried about being able to stay up all night, but that of course, proved to be no problem at all!
Chapter 2: Night Challenges
As soon as we got to the farm,we immediately unloaded all the gear, so we could get out right away and start hunting. Stephan did all the driving. He was familiar with the farm, having hunted there before during the day. Mostead stayed in the center of the truck bed, right up against the cab. As we began to drive around, I would move to the left or right side of Mostead, depending on the terrain. This way in the truck bed, only one person would ever be moving around, helping to make things a little safer.
As my friend began to slowly drive around, Mostead would sweep the spotlight, very slowly from hard left to hard right, and then back again to hard left. It was amazing the number of game we saw in the light, their pupils glowing red from the reflection of the bright light. But curiously, they would stand and stare, not run off like Stephan had said. I asked him right away about that, and he replied that they hadn’t done anything bad, so no need to run- they knew they were not guilty.
“But just wait until we see our first kudu- they’ll be running off the moment we hit them with the light!” He assured me it would be altogether different when we get on them!
I soon found that one of the bigger challenges would be the direction of the wind when we stop, but not because of it carrying our scent to the game. After all, they’ll hear the diesel engine long before they can smell our human scent. We had our first kudu spotting just after making a right hand turn onto a field. Seeing three kudu off to the hard right, when the vehicle made a sudden stop, the cloud of dust raised up by the tires, boiled up in front of the truck’s headlights.
The lights had the effect of illuminating...
the fine dust, making it impossible to see past the dust glowing in the headlights. It was much like turning your high beams on in heavy fog. The fog becomes so bright, the light reflects back, and virtually ends the ability to see more than a few feet. The same was happening with the dust cloud. After several more failures from this effect, we learned to turn off the truck headlights, which were down at the dust level, and only use the spotlight to illuminate the game, as it was at a level well above the dust. The spotlight provided Stephan with just enough reflected light to be able to drive.
Several times early on, we did get on some kudu, and just as Stephan had said, they took off running before I could even get on them, much less take a shot. This was occurring in the more open, flat areas of the farm. But my friend knew of areas which were a little hilly, so we then focused more there. This might give us a slight advantage, allowing us to sneak up on them with less warning.
Chapter 3: You Won’t Believe…
As we were approaching an area where the kudu had been hitting the cotton pretty well, Stephan turned off the headlights, and Mostead also killed the spotlight, well before we got very near to the field. Stephan would drive at an idle speed, navigating only by starlight. After a few minutes, he let us know in back that we’d be stopping soon. He’d flipped the switch in his truck that would keep his inside lights off when he opened his door.
The plan was to get right up to just short of the field, turn the truck off, open his door and get out with his rifle, with me at the ready in the bed of the truck. Then Mostead would turn on the spotlight, and give the field a quick scan. Hopefully we’d catch some of the bad boys in the act of munching on the farmer’s cotton.
After over three hours with no success, we were all on pins and needles this time! We could barely make out the crops and noticed a tree line was close, just off to our right. Stephan turned the truck off, and let it coast forward a little bit. He stopped fully, and slowly opened his door, rifle in hand. I’m loaded and resting off the top of the cab, ready to shoot. My friend whispered to turn on the spotlight. In just a moment, all hell broke loose!
Barely 75 yards from us, five kudu bulls were caught in the light, with their heads up, and fresh cotton greens hanging from their mouths! They all...
turned to run for the trees. Stephan hit one as he turned to run, and we heard a whump from the strike of his bullet, but before he could reload, the kudu made it to the trees.
I swung my .375 on one of the bigger bulls, leading him slightly as he runs dead away, and fired for the base of the rear of his neck. We heard the smack of the big 270 grain .375, and he went down so fast, it was as if he stepped in a hole! The other three kudu had taken off like rockets, and made it to the trees before either of us could reload. Jumping out of the bed with my rifle, I grabbed the flashlight out of my pocket, and told Stephan that I’d go after his. At night, it’s better to track and whack a wounded kudu with my big gun instead of his .300. He shoutd back, that he’d go looking to make sure mine dropped. Mostead was yelling to us both, that we had done some good shooting!
I barely had to run into the trees 20 yards to where I found Stephan’s kudu already expired- his 180 grain Barnes X shot had diagonaled the bull through both lungs and exited the far side. Shouting out, I yelled to Stephan that I found his bull. He screamed back to me that he also found mine, and I won’t believe what else he found! What else he found??? What ~was he talking about?
As I ran up to him, I could see with my flashlight, my bull lying just in front of my friend. But Stephan had his light shining down at his feet, about five feet in front of the bull. What was he looking at?
“I found your bullet! Right here on the ground, where it fell after exiting the neck of your bull!”
“NO WAY! Stop messing with me!” I yell back!
As I ran up to Stephan, his flashlight was still pointed to the ground. Looking down, I saw an expanded Barnes X-Bullet, wet in blood. I bent down and picked it up- it’s for real. In my hand I held a freshly expanded bullet, coated in blood, and there are five or six stands of dark mane hair stuck between the inside corner of two blades, right where they meet. Kudu have manes on the back of their neck,just like horses or zebras, but they also have a mane running up the front center of their neck, too. I hit the bull as he was running away, aiming for the center of the base of his neck, so we stepped over to examine him and see where he’d been hit.
The bullet struck just off center, about an inch to the right,...
missing the mane going in… but it exited exactly in the middle, through the front mane. The strands of hair we were looking at were pulled out by the corner, between two of the blades, as it exited the front. Having expended virtually all of its energy, it then fell to the ground just in front of where he dropped! We both looked at each other in disbelief, but that’s exactly what happened!
I’ve recovered bullets before inside game; and once even when I shot a bouncing mule deer, from the soft dirt in the hillside behind him after the bullet exited. But I’ve never even heard of recovering a bullet that literally fell out of game having just penetrated heavy muscle and bone! Stephan and I looked at each other. We were having a hard time believing what we were seeing, but there was no doubt it had happened, exactly that way.
Chapter 4: Double Trouble Bulls
With both bulls dragged next to the dirt road, for pickup in the morning, we pressed on, as we still had several hours of darkness for our hunt. About an hour passed with no luck, and then we headed for a high spot on the farm where the hill top is flat and planted in cotton. Still on a high, from our double an hour ago, Stephan forgot to turn the lights out before we got to the top. As he crested the edge and leveled off, we saw more than six kudus feeding in the cotton. He slamed on the brakes, but it was too late. The dust kicked up from the tires, boiled and drifted in front of the truck, and is illuminated in the air by his headlights, obscuring the bulls before us.
The farmer greets us as we pull up to the hanging shed.
We screamed for Stephan to turn off the lights, which he did, while Mostead panned the spotlight over the field of chaos. Two or three kudu were running to the far right, two dead away, and three were running hard to the left. As the dust continued to drift forward, and to the right, my only choice was the ones running hard to the left.
My .375 already loaded, I swung on the first one, and it dropped to the shot, as the whump of the bullet strike reached us right after the...
shot. Everyone was screaming to shoot another one, so I pulled back on the bolt to eject the fired case, and chambered a second round. I distinctly remember hearing the empty brass ping-ping-ping as it rattled down, striking the metal bed of the truck, and bounced around. Swinging and leading the second bull, who was now running flat out, we heard the rifle shot, the whump of the bullet strike, and saw him tumble head over heels, landing in a cloud of dust amongst the cotton.
Both Stephan and Mostead were screaming and hollering, having just seen the American drop two crop raiding kudu bulls only seconds apart, each with only one shot! No one could believe what just happened, least of all me. After all, I once missed a standing mule deer at only 50 yards! We took several photos, one where each one fell, then loaded them up into the truck. Driving back, we collected up the first two bulls, stepped back, and were amazed at having four kudu in the back of his small Toyota truck. We got back to the farm complex just as the sun was starting to rise. The farmer greeted us as we pulled up to the hanging shed.
Asking if we had any luck, he walked around the back of the truck and saw the four kudu bulls, lying one on top of another. Stephan started to tell him of the amazing night we had, first relaying the story about the two I just shot, standing up in the back of the truck, dropping both on the run. Then, as he started to explain about me dropping my first bull and finding the expended bullet right on the ground just past where it fell, he told of the mane hair it carried out between the two petals as it exited. Just then I was handing it to the farmer to see, thinking I should say, “And please don’t touch the strands of hair!” He took the special bullet from my fingers, looked at the strands of hair, and pulled them out… all but two of the strands!
In unison, Stephan and I shouted, “Why the bloody hell, did you just do that?!?!”
I guess such things… do not impress a farmer very much!