In the earlier story
Kudus In The Cotton, I related the event where my friend Stephan actually found a full expanded Barnes 270 grain X-Bullet, lying on the ground, having fully penetrated a kudu bull. It literally had just enough energy to exit the hide on the far side, having first coursed through considerable muscle and bone. He found it right in front of my departing kudu bull, with a small tuft of mane hair, wedged between two of the four blades. That was pretty incredible…especially considering we were doing control work, at night in the dark.
My final story on African hunting- for now- deals with the full range of emotions, when one wounds and then later finds, an animal while on safari.
Chapter 1: This Should Be Easy
I was carrying my .376 Steyr that morning, loaded with 300 grain Swift A-Frames, doing nearly 2,400 fps. Only about a hundred feet per second slower than a .375 H&H, it should prove to be excellent for the zebra we had decided to pursue. Stephan was along for the ride that morning, and he was carrying my .308 Steyr Scout just because he had grown rather fond of it. After about an hour or so driving around, we spotted a small heard of a dozen or so, feeding on grass in a bushy area.
Getting out of the Land Cruiser, the two of us and one tracker eased up a few hundred yards, until we had closed the gap to less than 60. One may wonder why nature made zebras black and white stripped… surely they are very easy to spot. But get close to a herd, and although easy to see, trying to make out which part of what zebra you’re looking at, the unique natural camouflage, can give your eyes the fits, trying to focus on only one. And that is the reason that pattern works so well in nature.
Lions may very well charge into a herd, but they can’t bring down the entire herd, and must focus only on one animal. With the zebra’s striping, that’s where it can get very difficult. You think you’re looking at one zebra’s chest… only to find when he moves, that you were actually focused on the hindquarter of another animal. When a group gets to running, it is very hard to single out a distinct animal. This, when being pursued by prey, often allows many to escape unharmed, as it got too confusing in all the commotion.
At just over 60 yards distant, I had singled out one zebra facing to the right, with several
others...
in the general area, but none close to my targeted stallion. Though partially
obscured by low bushes, I slowly raised the .376, steadied my crosshairs on his chest,
and sent a 300 grain Swift on its way. At the shot, nearly twice as many zebra as I first
thought, exploded from the bushes and took off running. The zebra I had fired upon,
also took off running hard, straight into heavy brush. All three of us thought he reacted
hard to the shot, and were confident the tracker would locate him in a short
distance. Paul, my PH, was just behind us, and he too thought the shot had been good.
At the shot, nearly twice as many zebra as I first thought, exploded from the bushes and took off running.
The second tracker with Paul, also joined us in the search for the stallion I had fired
on. Both trackers were able to follow his path through the grass, but the blood spoor
was almost non-existent. Not to worry, as everyone felt he would not go very far, with a
.375 through his chest broadside. Unfortunately, the blood trail soon disappeared in the
tall grass, and his tracks were soon lost. No problem we all thought, he can’t go far,
and with five people looking, we decided to double back and retrace his tracks, all of us
keeping within 30 yards of so of each other. Starting from the point he was standing
when fired upon, we headed in a line towards where he had run, and zig-zagging the
entire time to ensure we fully covered the area.
Sadly, after over 3 hours of tracking, the five of us were unable to come up with any
trace of my stallion. Paul informed me that as we had found blood, it would count
against my trophy list, which was understandable of course. That was really on no
concern to me, as I was far more worried that he may later die, after unnecessary
suffering. Paul thought that perhaps we might come across him later in the day, but
considering how heavy the cover was, it seemed unlikely to me.
Sadly, after over 3 hours of tracking, the five of us were unable to come up with any trace of my stallion.
Spirts were down considerably for the rest of the day, as nobody wanted to leave a
wounded animal unfound. But after five of us combing the area for three hours, Paul
finally conceded that something may have deflected the bullet, and the wound might
only be a grazing...
hit. If the stallion had been double lunged, we would have found a far
more copious blood trail, and most certainly the animal after a few hundred yards. I
hoped he was right, that it had only been a grazing wound, but nonetheless, felt about
as bad as I could, for having lost a wounded animal. Paul said there might be a chance
we’d come across the zebra in the next few days, and said we’d force ourselves to
continue hunting in that general area, to improve our odds at seeing him.
Chapter 2: What’s That In The Distance?
The very next day, the entire camp’s spirit was pretty low.
The very next day, the entire camp’s spirit was pretty low. As I wanted to focus on smaller game, I grabbed the .308 Scout, and climbed up into the bed of the Cruiser, sitting down on the high seat behind the cab. Stephan took my .376, and rode in the cab with Paul. The two trackers stood in back with me, and were as quiet as everyone else, when we pulled out of camp. Everyone agreed to keep their eyes out in hopes of spotting the wounded stallion, but truthfully, we thought the odds of running across him to be pretty slim.
About mid-morning, we left the brush where the stallion had been fired upon, and headed out into an open grassy area; having scattered trees and bushes throughout. Beyond that zone, heavy trees and brush took over, and prevented seeing more than 50 yards or so into the cover. Many species could be seen as we looked out; small herds of wildebeest and impala, tsessebe and giraffes, eland and warthogs. It very much looked like a scene from Jurassic Park, only no dinosaurs… only African plains game. Oh and… far over there is a large herd of zebra… ZEBRA!
I pound on the roof to get Paul to stop, which he does, apparently seeing the zebra at the same time I had. Stephan piles out of the cab and jumps up into the bed to have a better viewpoint. Paul also gets out, and up goes his binoculars.
“Look at the rear on the far left, all by himself! See the one limping, with a dried blood running down on his right hindquarter?
“Look at the rear on the far left, all by himself! See the one limping, with a dried blood running down on his right hindquarter? I scream and point for all to...
see.
“He’s definitely wounded!” shouts out Paul.
The herd is at least 500 yards distant, but Stephan and I take a rest on the roof of the Cruiser, hold high, and both release a volley of fire.
The herd is at least 500 yards distant, but Stephan and I take a rest on the roof of the Cruiser, hold high, and both release a volley of fire. We never even come close, and only serve to get the entire herd of over 50 zebra running to the right, in high gear. In no time at all, they have disappeared in a cloud of dust heading for the far, dense tree line. The wounded stallion follows behind them, not too far, but definitely moving slower than the rest.
The herd is at least 500 yards distant, but Stephan and I take a rest on the roof of the Cruiser, hold high, and both release a volley of fire. We never even come close, and only serve to get the entire herd of over 50 zebra running to the right, in high gear. In no time at all, they have disappeared in a cloud of dust heading for the far, dense tree line. The wounded stallion follows behind them, not too far, but definitely moving slower than the rest.
“Hold on- were going after them!” shouts Paul.
We all hold on for dear life, as Paul takes off like a rocket, driving towards the dust bowl the herd left behind. He drives into the trees, staying on a narrow trail, headed north for at least a half mile. Suddenly the trail ends in a tee, with the choice of making a right or left hand turn. No zebra are in sight, so we have no idea at all which way to go.
Chapter 3: Turn Right Or Left?
Paul slams on the brakes, as we come to a decision point… should we turn right… or should we turn left? Nobody really knows, but everyone wants someone to make a decision. Standing up in the back of the bed with my Steyr Scout, I yell to Paul to turn left. Why, I don’t really know, but one way is as good as the other at this point in time. Paul turns the wheel hard left, and heads up a slight incline, heading down the trail, with heavy trees and brush all around. We had barely gone about two hundred yards, when the vegetation suddenly opens up, revealing a huge bowl of open grass, surrounded by heavy brush in every direction. I scream “ZEBRA” just as Paul is slamming on the brakes.
...
Looking to the far west, in the grass next to the dense tree line, is the large herd of zebra, with my wounded one trailing back at the rear. Stephan and Paul jump out, looking sadly as the herd sees us, and starts boiling into the distant trees. Paul is glassing with his binoculars, and calls out that the wounded stallion is on the right, at the very rear of the herd. Stephan stands next to him, shaking his head, as the zebras are entering the trees one by one. Everyone can tell that they’ll soon all be gone for good.
I’m standing up in the bed of the Cruiser, with my .308 Scout, looking at the limping zebra at the rear.
I’m standing up in the bed of the Cruiser, with my .308 Scout, looking at the limping zebra at the rear. Knowing that we’ll never see them again after they make it into the trees, I look through my scope and start to calculate where I should hold; they seem so far away. Leading him by about a foot, and holding just on the top of his back, I get ready to send a Hornady 150 grain SST on its way. Nobody thinks I’m going to attempt a shot.
Paul keeps looking through the binoculars. Everyone else is sadly watching, as the zebras are disappearing into the trees. Hearts and spirits are falling, as we all know it’s over…
Chapter 4: It’s Too Far…
Seeing that it looks like I might be getting ready to take a shot, Paul calls out, “You’re not going to shoot are you? It’s too far, it’s too…”
POW! The Steyr barks, and with four other pairs of eyes watching, the wounded stallion falls over… and lays still!
Everyone is screaming at the top of their lungs! Nobody thought for a moment, that I was going to even try a shot. And yet I did, because I had to. I knew that if the herd made it into the trees, the wounded zebra would follow them, and be lost forever. All of the shooting practice I had done, living and hunting in Montana for six wonderful years, had paid off. Not only did my offhand shot hit… it actually dropped him, just as he was heading into the trees.
“You’re not going to shoot are you? It’s too far, it’s too…”
In one brief moment, five people had gone from despair and sadness, to joyful jubilation. Paul and Stephan keep congratulating...
me, saying over and over, that they never thought for even a moment, that I was going to shoot. Talk right away turns, to how far everyone thinks the shot was?
I ask Paul to pace the shot, as we all go to claim my trophy. I walk side by side with him, as Stephan drives the vehicle to the zebra. The Cruiser got there before us, but as we reach the zebra, Paul- who has been counting in his head- declares it to have been 263 paces from where I shot, to the stallion. No one can believe I made an offhand shot, from the bed of the vehicle, on a walking zebra, at that distance!
Chapter 5: So… What Happened?
Examining my zebra, we find that the Hornady had struck just behind the shoulders, about four or five inches below the top of his back, striking the spine, and exiting the far side. The bullet had shot pretty flat, striking just below where I was holding at that distance. I was really impressed that the 150 SST gave complete penetration through the muscle and backbone.
Examining the stallion further, there is a bullet hole in the top half of his right hindquarter, with dried blood running down at least a foot. How did it strike there, when I was aiming at his chest, and the shot was only at 60 yards or so? A trip to the butchery later that afternoon would reveal some interesting finds.
With the zebra hung and dressed, we examine the hindquarter wound, by first sticking a metal rod in the bullet hole. It strikes metal… but at a depth of only around four inches. How can that be? Making a cut across the hole, revealed a perfectly mushroomed bullet, that only penetrated that short distance into the animal. A forensic and ballistics evaluation is in order. I’ll state the facts of what we found, and then make some “best guesses” on how it could possibly be so.
Ballistic and Wound Facts:
- The 300 grain Swift A-Frame had been fired at around 2,400 fps, at a distance of only around 60 yards, so the bullet was traveling in excess of 2,250 upon impact.
- It was nicely mushroomed, showing no evidence of having first struck a tree or branch.
This type of expansion was the result of travel through tissue.
- It is physically impossible to only penetrate 4 inches or so, at that speed, as it did not come apart, but was nicely expanded and had near full weight retention.
- Being of an A-Frame design, the...
lower half of the shank was swelled/bulged slightly- this ONLY happens at higher impact speeds.
The wound was very clean, with minimal tissue disruption, indicating that its speed was very low. It looked as if a 3/8 inch solid rod had simply been pushed into the muscle. Without any infection, it was a survivable wound.
I doubt that even a cup of blood had run down the leg, from the wound in the hindquarter; the stallion walked only with a very slight limp.
Thoughts on what happened… based on the above observable facts:
- For the bullet to expand so uniformly, and the lower shank to swell out, this had to happen at a high impact speed in living tissue.
- The very moderate trauma in the hindquarter, and extremely shallow penetration, indicates that this zebra was hit with a very low speed projectile.
- As ‘a’ and ‘b’ above are in direct contradiction… meaning they BOTH cannot exist if this was the only animal the bullet struck… I believe the bullet first went through a zebra nearer me at high speed- causing it to expand and the base to swell- and when it exited the first animal with much of its velocity shed, it created the minimal wound in the recovered stallion’s hindquarter, with very shallow penetration.
Forensically, I can’t see that it could have happened any other way.
So despite the extended tracking efforts by the five of us, we somehow missed the first zebra I probably shot completely through. At the time I was ecstatic that we recovered the wounded stallion, but upon reflection of the above facts, it makes me sad to think that we very well might have missed another animal, that was in fact the first to receive my bullet. I find this outcome, just as amazing as finding the expended bullet on the ground, as addressed in my earlier Kudus In The Cotton adventure.